


Harvest

by m_gui



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Body Horror, Bugs & Insects, Gen, Halloween, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Supernatural Elements, Tentacles, Tentaspy, Transformation, Vampires, Were-Creatures, Wings, Zombie, demon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 22,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_gui/pseuds/m_gui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being stationed and then apparently abandoned at Harvest in October, the BLU team finds itself the victims of a variety of strange supernatural transformations. Some embrace the new changes, some are terrified of them, their monstrous teammates, and themselves.</p><p>Rated T for language and violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And then Soldier Died

It started when the Soldier died. 

Actually, it could have started when the Sniper came back from a hunt with a mauled forearm, claiming he was attacked by some sort of rabid coyote. Or it could have started when the supply trucks stopped coming in, which had forced Sniper to go hunt up some game in order to feed the team in the first place. It could have even started with their transfer to Harvest in the beginning of October. Something had felt off from the beginning, the Scout had said so often. But the Soldier’s death was the first time the team realized something strange was happening. 

It wasn’t the death that was surprising; it had taken some time, but the employees of both RED and BLU were accustomed to their unique existence thanks to the mysterious Respawn Rooms located in all of their bases. Death was, at worst, a painful nuisance. No matter how gruesome their fate, the team members would always reappear in Respawn, good as new, ready to fight again. After awhile battle tactics had adjusted to account for Respawn, and the Soldier especially relied on it during his many screaming kamakazie attacks on the enemy REDs. 

So it wasn’t a surprise to anyone that the Soldier had died. The surprise was that he stayed dead. The Scout had stumbled upon the body after ceasefire, when the teams were returning to their base. Butterfly knife to the back — the RED Spy had gotten him. In comparison to the other deaths the Soldier had experienced that day it was easily the least gruesome, but that didn’t comfort the Scout much as he cried for help, summoning the rest of the team. At first they thought maybe Respawn just hadn’t picked up the body. Normally it would disappear after the Respawn system started — one of the many aspects of the process that gave no end of confused frustration to the team’s Engineer and Medic — but sometimes various body parts would be left behind. A hand, a foot, some organs, occasionally even a head (it was known that the RED Soldier had a collection of BLU heads stashed in his quarters, much to the horror of, well, of everybody except the RED Soldier). While they had never known Respawn to leave an entire body behind, it didn’t seem beyond the realm of possibility. 

It was only after the Engineer had returned from Respawn shaking his head did the rest of the team let the information sink in. The Soldier would not be coming back. The Medic was the first to break the silence with a long, defeated sigh. 

“Bring ze body to ze infirmary. Perhaps an autopsy vill reveal vhat vent vrong.” 

The Medic turned on his heals and headed in the direction of their base. It took a moment for the doctor’s words to register with the rest of the team members, but eventually the Heavy Weapons Expert stepped forward to gently pick up the American’s corpse, and turned to follow the Medic. The rest of the team trailed along up to the large retro-fitted farmhouse that functioned as Harvest’s BLU base.


	2. No Word From the Administrator

Engineer stared at the empty coffee cup sitting on his workbench. Even if he had known of the Respawn’s glitch, he wouldn’t have been able to fix it. The mechanics of the system were a closely guarded secret that his superiors had not felt necessary to explain to him, and the few times he had snuck into the Respawn room in order to sneak a peek at it’s inner workings he had been harshly reprimanded. So why did he feel responsible for Soldier’s death? Maybe if he had tried harder to understand the complicated machinery, maybe asked Spy to help him sneak into the room undetected, something. He had given up too easily. If he had just pressed the issue harder maybe they could have avoided this situation. 

The Engineer couldn’t even console himself with the thought that this was the way the Soldier would have wanted to die. In battle, yes, no doubt, but screaming and fighting, maybe blowing himself up with his grenades in order to take out the enemy. Not stabbed in the back without the chance of a counter-attack. Any of the other deaths he had experienced in today’s battle would have been a good permanent death for Soldier, so why did the one that actually counted have to be the least dignified? 

“BLU HQ, BLU HQ, this is th’Engineer at Harvest Base. Do y’all copy?” 

Silence. As always. Engineer let go of the radio receiver attached to the wall of the workshop and sat himself back down on the bench. He’d been trying to reach HQ for a full two hours now. 

“Dag nabbit somebody pick up the line,” he muttered to himself. 

“I assume we are still woefully without guidance from our superiors?” 

Engineer gave a jump and turned toward the door, cursing under his breath. He liked to think that during his tenure at BLU he had become fairly adept at knowing when a Spy was creeping up on him, but their team’s Spy seemed to be just as adept at spooking the bejezus out of him. He was leaning up against the closed door of the workshop, like he had been there for ages, idly smoking one of his fancy brown cigarettes. The European chuckled lightly as Engineer tried to regain his composure, pushing himself off the door to walk towards the radio. 

“Y-yeah. Figgered maybe them losin’ one of us would be enough for them to finally give us some sorta orders, but...” Engineer let the thought trail off before he said something about HQ he would regret later. Spy leaned over him to inspect the radio himself. 

“And you are sure the device is working properly?” 

“Checked it, double checked it, re-checked it, and then checked it again. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with the blasted thing. The silence is comin’ from HQ’s end, and they ain’t said ‘boo’ since we arrived at this God-forsaken base. Iff’n you don’t believe me yer welcome to try it yerself, Spah.” 

“Non, I believe you have done as much as I would have in the situation. It is not like I have any special sway with our superiors that would make them want to talk to me any more than they would want to talk wiz you.” 

Engineer was waiting for some sort of smart-ass comment from Spy, but when none came he just sighed and stood up from the workbench, turning towards the door. 

“S’bout time for supper. You comin’?” 

“Qui. I simply must see what terrible creature Sniper has decided is edible tonight,” Spy replied, taking a dramatic drag off his cigarette. “Perhaps vomiting will be a welcome distraction to the day’s events.” 

“Well yer welcome to find yer own food, Spah. Sniper’s doin’ a right kindness goin’ out every day on his own time to russle us all up some grub, seeing as HQ can’t be bothered to make sure we don’t starve. At least this way we have something to eat.” 

Engineer held the door open, waiting for Spy to exit so he could make sure the door was securly locked behind him. When Engineer had first seen the base — the run-down farmhouse exterior that sat mostly empty with the majority of the base protected in underground basements and sub-basements — he had been reminded of a haunted house he had seen being built in that Disney park a few years back. It had been made to look like a big mansion, but the guts of the attraction were hidden underground and out of sight. A few of his old engineering colleagues had gone to work for the park and had once let Engineer into the bowels of the unfinished ride to take a look around. He wondered how he managed to end up spending every day building death machines while some of his peers got to spend every day designing rides for children. 

He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of a loud metal crash coming from the infirmary. The workshop was located on the same basement level as the medical room, and they had to pass by it to get to the stairs that led up into the living quarters of the base. The sound of the crash caused Engineer and Spy both to stop and glance at each other, and the sound of screaming caused them both to sprint towards the infirmary doors.


	3. Vivisect the Dead

“Mein gott!” 

The rolling metal tray holding the doctor’s medical supplies toppled over and crashed onto the linoleum floor as the Medic violently backed away from the vivisected body in front of him. His brain was having difficulty parsing the information it was receiving. Up until a few moments ago Medic had been in the middle of an autopsy. The Medic had considered himself rather skilled at the procedure back before he had joined BLU, but he hadn’t had the chance to dissect a corpse in years thanks to Respawn. He found himself quite eager to see if his skills were as sharp as they had used to be, and while he wasn’t particularly happy that one of his teammates had been so permanently disposed of, the mutual animosity between the Soldier and the Medic was by no means a secret. Therefore, the doctor’s opinion of the situation had more to do with fear of his own mortality rather than any real emotion towards the corpse on his table. There was also no denying a mild curiosity to see for himself the amount of brain damage the Soldier had sustained after years of self-inflicted head trauma. It was all quite exciting.

He had finished the external examination, which revealed little information outside of exactly how skilled a Spy must be to cause instant death with a single blade to the back, and had begun the internal examination. A y-shaped incision had been made across the chest, the skin had been peeled back, and Medic was about to begin the process of breaking the ribs to remove the chest plate when the cadaver’s eyes had suddenly popped open. The doctor stopped what he was doing to peer at the dead man’s face, but his curiosity was short-lived when the side of his head was greeted with a violent backhand that sent him reeling to the floor. By the time Medic had registered what had happened and gotten back to his feet, the body was sitting bolt upright on the examination table and staring daggers at the doctor. 

“JUST WHAT IN THE NAME OF LITTLE BABY JESUS DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING, MAGGOT?”

“Mein gott!” 

That’s when he knocked over the metal tray. It was like his brain had seized; he simply could not comprehend what exactly he was looking at. The corpse yelled again. 

“I ASKED YOU A QUESTION YOU KRAUT SONOVABITCH.” 

“W-was...” Medic stumbled. He looked like their Soldier. He sounded like their Soldier. And he certainly acted like their Soldier. Medic may have been a little rusty when it came to dealing with actual corpses, but he knew the difference between dead and comatose, and Soldier was most definitely, indefensibly, dead. Medic’s eyes were fixed on the Soldier’s exposed ribcage while his brain was trying desperately to figure out exactly why and how the man, the cadaver, was moving. Soldier noticed the staring and glanced down at his chest. The small part of Medic that wasn’t trying to come to grips with the situation mused that if Soldier had any blood left in his body it would have drained out of his face, judging by the look of horror on it as he experimentally poked at his exposed muscles and ribs. The expression didn’t last long, though, and was immediately replaced with fury as he whipped his head back up towards the doctor. 

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS, FRITZ?” 

“Herr Soldat, I-” 

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT WAS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE YOU STARTED EXPERIMENTING ON US YOU SICK NAZI-” 

“Mon dieu!” 

“Holy shit!” 

Soldier’s head darted towards the interruption and Medic’s followed suit. Engineer and Spy stood in the doorway with a similar expression of disbelief present on the doctor’s face.


	4. Soldier's a Zombie

“So Soldier’s a zombie.” 

“He’s, ugh, nein. He’s not a zombie.” 

“Looks like a fuckin’ zombie to me, man.” 

“And do you have a PROBLEM with that, maggot?” 

“Man, look I’m glad you ain’t really dead or whatever ‘cause that fuckin’ blew when we thought you wasn’t ever gonna be around no more an’ all, but this is just wicked creepy is all I’m sayin’.” 

Scout finished what looked like his fourth can of soda and was beginning to open another. Dinner had been in progress, a stew made mostly of pumpkins pilfered from Harvest’s battlefield along with some meat Sniper had claimed to be jackrabbit but Scout was positive was actually roadkill, when Engineer, Spy, and Medic arrived. Dinner had been completely forgotten when Soldier walked in with them, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary as he helped himself to some of Sniper’s stew and sat at the table with the rest of the team. 

“Zhere are no such things as zombies, Scout.” 

“Well I mean what would you call him then? He’s dead, right?” 

“DO I LOOK DECEASED TO YOU, PRIVATE?” 

“Yes! You do! You’re skin’s all gray and leathery and it’s givin’ me the wicked freaks, man.” 

“Fellas please, can we all jes’ try to eat dinner and stop buggin’ Sol? We’ve all had a rough day, so let’s not-” 

“You don’t gotta coddle me like I’m a goddamned China doll, Engineer! The team wants to know what happened and I’ll tell you worthless maggots what happened!” Soldier slammed his fist down on the table, standing up suddenly. “This fine country LOVES ME SO MUCH that she CANNOT STAND THE THOUGHT of being without me and has DEEMED ME IMMORTAL. It is VERY OBVIOUS. AS LONG AS THERE ARE ENEMIES TO LIBERTY AND FREEDOM AMERICA WILL NOT ALLOW ME TO DIE." 

Soldier stood staring at his teammates, expecting a response. When none came he quietly sat back down in his chair and resumed picking at his stew. Scout popped another can of soda. 

“Oh yeah well that makes so much more friggin’ sense than “zombie” now don’t it. Whatever man, as long as you don’t start to smell I guess.” He finished most of the can in one great swallow. 

“Boy you better go easy on that sodie-pop of yours.” Engineer eyed the cans littered around Scout’s plate. “We don’t know when we’re gonna get another shipment of it out here.” 

“Man whatever, I’m thirsty as shit okay? Who the hell cares what I’m drinking, Soldier over here is a fuckin’ zombie! Let’s keep talkin’ about that, that’s awesome.” 

“Dff rff hrrt?” The Pyro, muffled behind her fireproof chemsuit mask, took a couple pokes at Soldier’s arm. 

“NO IT DOES NOT HURT. Only women feel pain, son, and that is FACT.” 

Pyro gave an insulted hrumph stepped away from Soldier. 

“I do not understand,” the Heavy had remained silent at the far end of the table for the duration of the conversation, “I have not heard of this word, “zombie”? Is Soldier okay now? He look...sick.” 

“Zombies’re reanimated corpses, lad.” Demoman had also remained uncharacteristically quiet as soon as Soldier had appeared in the dining hall, but the Scout’s tactless yammering was actually doing a good job of sort-of-putting the rest of the room at ease. “What I dunnae understan’ is zombies have no cognitive capacity--” 

“Cognawhative whosity?” 

“Brain function, Scoot! Zombies cannae think. Th’only thing that drives them is hunger fer human flesh. ‘Sides bein’ dead, Soldier ain’t like any sorta zombie Ah’ve ever seen.” 

“Zhat is because you haff never seen a zombie! Zhey do not exist!” 

“Well then wot’s yer explanation, doc?” The Sniper wasn’t sitting with the rest at the table, instead he was eating his dinner while leaning against the doorframe that separated the dining hall from the kitchen. Medic looked at the Australian and opened his mouth to say something, but Soldier interrupted the doctor’s train of thought when he abruptly stood up from the table again. 

“IF YOU MAGGOTS ARE GOING TO TALK LIKE I’M NOT EVEN HERE I MIGHT AS WELL GO BACK TO MY QUARTERS,” he yelled, stepping back and violently shoving his chair into the table. “I DON’T GIVE A PRETTY PINK PISS AS TO HOW OR WHAT HAPPENED, ALL THAT MATTERS IS I’LL BE ON THAT FIELD TOMORROW, LIKE ALWAYS, BLOWING THE HELL OUT OF THE GODDAMNED REDS AS IS OUR ORDERS.” 

With that, Soldier marched out of the dining hall, slamming every door available to him until he was far enough into the base that the rest of the team couldn’t hear him. They sat in silence again, idly picking at their now cold stew. 

“I’ll take a look at Respawn after dinner,” Egineer said softly.


	5. You Ever Hear of Spider-Man?

“Mission begins in 60 seconds.” 

Scout cracked open another can of soda while he waited for the battle to begin. He knew if he kept going through his supply as fast as he was he’d be out before the week was over, but at the moment he didn’t particularly care. What he cared about is that he was thirsty and water wasn’t half as refreshing as the can of radioactive sludge in his hand. The current case he was drinking must’ve been bad, though, as it wasn’t nearly as sweet as it should have been. How was he expected to keep alert during battle without the sugar high, man? Total gyp. Lucky for him, there were tea drinkers on the base, and he had swiped a box of sugar cubes the last time he was in the kitchen. At first he just popped a few cubes in the can and let them dissolve, but waiting not something Scout had much skill for, and soon he was just eating the cubes on their own. Tasted good. Felt good, man. Let’s see those RED bastards try to catch up with him when he was feelin’ this good. 

“Son, the amount of sugar you have been puttin’ into yer body cannot be good for you.” 

“Fuck you, Hardhat, you ain’t my ma. You shouldn’t be carin’ anything at all about what’s in my body, fuckin’ queermo.” He threw the now-empty can in the corner of their team’s spawn room and popped a few more sugar cubes in his mouth. 

“You have such an elegant way with words, lapin.” 

“Fuck off, French fag. Why’s everybody on my fuckin’ case today?” 

“Mission begins in 10 seconds.” 

“IF YOU LADIES ARE DONE HAVING YOUR PERIODS WE HAVE A BATTLE TO WIN.” 

“Yeah listen to Commander Corpse! We got some heads to bat!” 

Despite being situated at the back of the room, Scout was the first out the door when the Announcer’s automated voice called the start of battle. Compared to the other bases he had been stationed on, Harvest was small, and it wasn’t long before Scout met up with the opposing REDs. 

Wood splintered behind him and Scout looked in the direction the bullet had come from. The RED Sniper was situated on the roof of one of the smaller farmhouses. What the hell was he thinking trying to shoot him? Even when Scout wasn’t feeling at the top of his game, the Sniper couldn’t hope to hit his tiny little head, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to hit him today. Scout was off like a shot towards the farmhouse, flying up the stairs and hopping out the window onto the roof faster than the enemy Sniper was prepared for, and before the sharpshooter could turn around Scout had introduced his bat to the back of the Sniper's head. 

“Yeah! First blood! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” he crowed from the roof, looking down on the battlefield. The RED Heavy and Medic were backing up towards the farmhouse Scout was standing on, being pushed backwards by Scout’s Heavy and Medic as well as his team’s Soldier. Being dead didn’t seem to effect Soldier’s ability to fight, that was for sure. The RED Heavy shot several rounds directly into the man, but from Scout’s perspective on the roof it seemed like Soldier didn’t even register the bullets. Between their Heavy’s minigun and Soldier’s rockets they were making short work of the RED pair beneath Scout, but Scout noticed the enemy Medic’s medigun crackle with the unmistakable signs of a charge. 

Shit. Scout lept off the roof without a second thought. If the RED Medic deployed his Übercharge it wouldn’t matter how many expensive bullets or rockets were fired their way. He needed to be taken out immediately. Scout barely even registered his actions until he landed directly on top of the enemy Medic’s shoulders, knocking him to the ground and spilling the medigun from his hands. Scout recovered from the fall faster than the confused Medic, and it only took a few shots from his pistol to properly dispatch the enemy. Before he could even think he turned towards the RED Heavy, who hadn’t noticed the loss of his doctor before being knocked off balance by Scout’s bat. The blow wasn’t hard enough to do any serious damage to the giant man, but it distracted him from Scout’s teammates’ long enough to not notice an incoming rocket. Scout ducked away from the splash damage as the man in front of him exploded into a pile of dismembered body parts. 

Scout felt good. Scout felt better than he had in ages, actually. He popped another sugar cube in his mouth as he taunted the corpses under his feet until they were picked up by the RED’s respawn. He took out a third of the RED team and he wasn’t even freakin’ winded. His celebration was cut short by a swift smack to the back of his head. 

“PRIVATE, THIS IS A WAR ZONE, NOT A SOCK HOP. YOU WANNA PRANCE ABOUT LIKE A SPASTIC RABBIT WITH IT’S ASS ON FIRE YOU CAN DO IT WHEN WE’RE NOT IN THE MIDDLE OF A BATTLE, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE.” 

“Ow you crazy fucker! It’s not like oh holy shit are you okay?” Scout’s sentence changed focus halfway when he turned around to look at Soldier. He hadn’t noticed when he was up on the roof, but half the skin on the man's face looked like it had been burned off down to the bone, some of his clothes were still on fire, and his torso had a gigantic hole torn right through it. 

“That looks like it, doesn’t that, like, wicked hurt? How are you even standing, man?” 

“THIS AIN’T A BEAUTY CONTEST, SON. Now GET BACK OUT THERE BEFORE –” 

Whatever insult Soldier was going to yell was cut off as a volley of rockets from the enemy Soldier exploded at their feet. When the dust cleared, Soldier had practically liquefied, and Scout was wondering why he wasn’t sharing the same fate. He looked around; he must’ve jumped to safety at the last minute, letting his reflexes take care of things for him. 

The only problem was that he had jumped about two storeys up in the air, and was currently sitting on the sheer vertical side of the farmhouse they had been in front of, holding onto the side of the wall in a way he wasn’t sure was physically possible. 

“Oh holy shit!” Scout scrambled the rest of the way up the wall and back on top of the roof where he had been before, half-afraid that once he realized he was doing something impossible he’d fall to the ground like so many Loony Tunes. 

“Wot the blazes you doin’ up here, squirt?” Their Sniper had taken up the spot on the roof recently vacated by the enemy Sniper, and was giving Scout a confused look as he clambered onto the roof from a spot Sniper thought was inaccessible. Scout looked down at the wall he had climbed up, catching his breath. He turned to Sniper. 

“You ever read any Spider-Man, Snipes?”


	6. Headsheadsheadsheadsheadsheads

The Demoman had been on his way out of the Respawn Room when Soldier suddenly appeared in the machinery and collapsed to the floor. Soldier shook off Demo’s attempt to help him back to his feet, insisting he could do it himself. He looked like he did at the beginning of the battle; no visible damage and in one piece, but still not alive by any means. 

“Well there goes our hopes of Respawn fixin’ yer problem. How’re ye feelin?” 

“Like rainbows and daffodils, how the hell do you think I feel?” Soldier’s voice wasn’t quite as loud or gruff as it normally was, and he seemed to be having a difficult time finding his bearings. “I’m a goddamned corpse, I feel like shit.” He coughed a few times as he got up to his feet, looking as if he couldn’t quite catch his breath. Demo thought his skin looked greyer than before. He didn’t look very good, even by his newly undead standards. 

“Ey, lad, if you’re not up to it you can prolly sit th’rest of th’battle out, we’ve almost secured the point.” Demo regretted saying anything close to “don’t fight” as soon as it came out of his mouth. The look Soldier gave him, obscured through his helmet but still palpable, was enough to chill his blood. 

“Awright awright, forget I said tha’. Let’s get back out to the fightin’, then.” He adjusted his targe over his left arm as he helped Soldier out the door, but as soon as they were outside Soldier shoved him off and walked off towards the fighting on his own. 

“You can kiss my decomposing ASS if you think I’m sitting out of a fight because of something as minor as “not being alive”, maggot. And if you’re gonna be prancing around with your oversized knife instead of using the guns the good Lord gave you, our team’s gonna need all the help it can get,” he gestured to the broadsword Demo was holding. Demo shrugged off the insult and chuckled, flipping the Eyelander around his his hand. 

Then, as if on queue, the RED Soldier stumbled backwards around the corner and straight into Demo and Soldier. With a wicked grin on his face, Demo quickly lifted his sword and disconnected the enemy Soldier’s head from his shoulders before he even had the chance to realize he had run into trouble. 

Soldier lunged at the decapitated head before it hit the ground and in one swift movement removed it from the rust-colored helmet and slammed it down on the ground with a sickening crack. Shoving his hand inside the broken skull, he scooped out the bloody pink and grey contents and shoved them into his mouth without a second thought. Demo stared at the whole scene dumbfounded, not sure of what he was watching. It was only when Soldier began cackling to himself with every slurping bite did the Scot find his voice. 

“What th’ fook are ye doin!?” he stammered, stepping backwards from the sight. Soldier suddenly looked up at Demo as if he didn’t realize he had been there the whole time, and looked back at the cracked skull of the former Soldier. The RED’s Respawn had already picked up the body. The BLU Soldier grinned wide and cackled again, bits of brain flying out of his mouth and down his chin. 

“GOOD OLD FASHIONED AMERICAN POETIC JUSTICE IS WHAT I’M DOING, SOMETHING YOU SCOTTISH NINNIES WOULDN’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT, BRAVEHEART.” 

“You’re eating him!” 

“I AM A REANIMATED CORPSE, MAGGOT. I CAN DO WHATEVER I DAMN WELL PLEASE. I HAVE EATEN HIS BRAIN AND I HAVE GAINED HIS KNOWLEDGE. WHAT I HAVE LEARNED IS HE WAS AN IDIOT COWARD THAT RAN BACKWARDS INTO A DECAPITATION-HAPPY CYCLOPS AND A BRAIN-HUNGRY ZOMBIE AND DESERVES NO PITY.” 

Demo stood there, not quite sure what to make of the situation. He looked at Soldier messily scraping the last few bloody bits of brain matter out of the thoroughly ruined skull and noticed that any signs of weakness Soldier had exhibited in the Respawn room were practically non-existent now. He looked over towards the sound of the rest of the battle, and looked down at the sword in his hand. If Soldier had been paying attention he would have noticed a significant amount of turmoil going on within the Scot, almost like he was fighting the sword itself, but as it was the only thing the Soldier noticed was brains brains brains brains brains. 

“Oi. Yank.” 

Soldier broke away from his meal and looked over his shoulder at the Demoman, ready to explain again why it’s no concern of his how he defeats his enemies as long as he does his job, he hadn’t eaten since the day before and it turns out brains were delicious. Instead the Demo’s expression had changed from confused horror back to the wicked grin he had sported a few moments prior when he had attacked the RED Soldier; his right hand tightly gripping the giant bloodstained sword and his single eye sporting an eerie glint. 

“I’m thinkin’ we need to be gettin’ you more heads.”


	7. A Meeting in the War Room

The battle had been an overwhelming victory for BLU, and one of the shortest battles they had seen since arriving at Harvest. Normally after a battle they’d convene in a meeting room (Soldier called it the “War Room” but it was little more than a room with a long table and filing cabinets full of intel) to go over the events of the fight, but the Team was at a loss of words to describe the past several hours. 

“So, uh,” Engineer was the first to break the silence, rubbing the back of his neck with his ungloved hand, “obviously there’s something out of the norm happening here.” 

“WINNING ISN’T OUT OF THE NORM, ENGINEER.” 

“Dammit, Sol, you know full well what I mean! Look at you!” 

Soldier cackled from the far end of the table. Only Demo sat next to him, seemingly oblivious to the dried blood and gore that painted the front of Soldier’s uniform. He still had his sword with him, resting on the table in front of him but never leaving his hand, eye still glowing from the day’s battle as he joined in with Soldier’s laughing. They had been mostly responsible for the day’s win as they rampaged through the battlefield, Demo beheading everyone he came across and Soldier rabidly attacking them with his bare hands and teeth, as all other weapons had been left behind and forgotten. After a few rounds of carnage the RED team was decidedly less enthusiastic about fighting. Getting stabbed, shot, blown up, and even beheaded was one thing, but eaten was another thing entirely and they didn’t seem terribly willing to deal with the dismemberment-happy BLU duo. Demo had said strange things about that sword talking to him ever since he had gotten it, but the rest of the team had brushed it off. Hell, a good half of the things that came out of the Scot’s mouth were drunken fabrications as far as the team knew. The man said he killed his parents while trying to blow up the Loch Ness monster, after all. After recent events, however, Engineer was wondering if there had been some truth to Demo’s claims. 

“Look, I know we’re all super skeeved out about Sgt. Zombie and Beheady McCrazyierthanusual over here,"

"That's _**Mac**_ Crazyierthanusual, lad."

"But we’re all forgetting how completely wicked awesome I was today. I mean look at me! I’m freakin’ Peter Parker ovah here!” Scout was perched up in the corner where the wall met the ceiling, illustrating his point. He hadn’t set foot on the floor since returning to base, eager to show off his new wall-crawling abilities. Shoes, socks, and hand-wraps were abandoned once Scout realized he could grip the walls much easier when clothing wasn’t in the way. But, as usual, Scout seemed to be the only one in the room impressed by Scout. 

“See this is what I’m talking about,” Engineer continued. “Somethin’ ain’t right here. It started with Sol, and now Scout an’ apparently Demo’s got it. What if whatever this is is spreadin’ to the rest of us?” 

“What, it’s a bad thing I got wicked awesome super powers?” 

“We don’t know what’s going on, Scout. For all we know we could end up like Soldier.” 

“WHAT, IT’S A BAD THING I’M AN UNSTOPPABLE FORCE IN AMERICA’S QUEST FOR FREEDOM AND LIBERTY?” 

“Oh fer the love of,” Engineer turned towards the rest of his teammates, “can somebody back me up here? I can’t be the only one thinkin’ this ain’t right.” 

The rest of the team stayed silent; only the sound of Soldier’s occasional chuckle and the uncomfortable shifting of seats could be heard. Engineer looked over his teammates. Spy was closest to him, sitting to his right, studying the situation but, as expected, offering no insight of his own on the matter. Across the table was Heavy, who seemed to be waiting for further explanation on the events. Engineer knew the Heavy wasn’t as slow as the rest of the team seemed to think, and when given the chance he was actually a rather brilliant strategist, but the language barrier was considerable. His English had improved significantly since he first joined the team, but he still seemed to only understand what was going on about half of the time unless Spy or Medic, who were able to get through to him better than the native-English speakers, helped him along. Engineer could only wonder what Heavy thought of the situation. Pyro was next to him, silent as usual, expression hidden behind the chemsuit’s mask. The firestarter looked bored, or tired, or generally uninterested judging from her body language, but she stayed quiet during the meeting. For all Engineer knew Pyro could have been effected with the same thing that had changed Scout, Soldier, and Demo, but with the suit and mask nobody would know unless Pyro spoke up. But she wasn’t sticking to the wall or eating brains or possessed by her weaponry, so Engineer just assumed everything was nominal. Sniper was over by the door, fidgety, half-listening and glancing at his watch, looking ready to leave. 

Medic had been sitting at the far end of the table, opposite to Soldier and Demo, hands, steepled in front of his face, taking in information and looking lost in thought during the meeting’s duration. Surely the doctor, a fellow man of science, would have an opinion on this matter, or at least be interested in what is going on. 

“Doc? Care to add your opinion to this?” 

“Hmm?” Medic turned his head sharply to Engineer as if he had been snapped out of a trance. He regained his composure smoothly, adjusting his glasses and sitting up in his chair. 

“Zis is all very fascinating, but I do not have enough information to form any solid theories." He looked towards Soldier and flashed a toothy grin. "Maybe if I were permitted to run zome tests...” 

“NEGATORY, FRANKENSTEIN. THE LAST TIME I WAS IN YOUR LAB YOU TRIED TO STEAL MY ORGANS.” 

“Sol, please,” Engineer put his hands up in a calming gesture to try to coax Soldier back to his seat. “What sort of tests, Doc?” 

“Vell...I haff blood samples from each of the team members in the infirmary, perhaps I could compare zhe old blood samples to fresh ones and see if there’s any changes? Zhis would be impossible with Herr Soldat of course--” Medic gestured towards Soldier, who bared his blood-stained teeth and growled towards the doctor, “--und I doubt he’d let me take a blood sample even if he had any blood left in his body. I vould love to examine a sample of his tissue under a microscope, to better understand how he can move without any body fluids, but I am assuming zhis will not be possible.” 

“YOU ASSUME CORRECTLY, MENDELEV.” 

“An’ you think it would help any, gettin’ blood samples?” Engineer asked. Medic, still looking towards Soldier, shrugged and sat back in his chair. 

“It is a place to start. I could take samples today and start analyzing zhem. Until we know more about vhat is causing zhis I am limited to ze vunderful vorld of exploratory diagnostics und just hope that a clue vill present itself.” 

“Eet is better zan sitting around uselessly while we wait to hear from HQ at least,” Spy added, putting his cigarette out on the table and reaching into his jacket for a new one. 

“Okay fine let’s go give the doc some blood or whatever are we done can we leave?” Scout had been inching towards the door as he spoke, as eager as Sniper to leave the room. 

“Well, is everybody okay with this?” Engineer looked around the room as everyone save Soldier gave an unenthusiastic nod or an indifferent shrug. “Well I guess that’s it then. Just keep an eye out for any more weird stuff, I suppose. I want to give a full report to HQ as soon as radio contact is reestablished.” Spy snorted at that last line. Engineer glared at him. 

“I’ll call for each of you vhen I need to take your blood sample,” Medic said as everyone started filling towards the door. “Scout, vould you mind seeing me first?” 

“Aww maaaannn,” Scout dropped from the ceiling to the floor with a semi-graceful jump, his disappointment practically radiating from his body as he followed Medic down the hallway towards his office. 

“Actually doc,” Sniper caught up to him in the hallway, “you mind me goin’ first and gettin’ it over with? Sun’s gonna go down soon and I still need to get out to the desert if we want somethin’ besides pumpkins for dinner this week. I’d like t’get outta here as soon as possible an’ get started.” 

“Oh, of course. I vould also like to check zhat bite on your arm, haff you had any problems vis it?” 

“Wot? Oh, that thing. Yeah, no. It’s healin’ up fine, Doc. Me own fault fer messin’ with a sick coyote.” Sniper unconsciously rubbed his bandaged forearm as he spoke. It had happened on one of his first times out hunting, and had initially refused to let Medic take care of it out of embarrassment. “It’s nothin’, don’t worry about it. Gotten worse from koalas back home, a little nip ain’t nothin’ to worry about. Just get yer blood sample so I can get out of here.” 

“As you vish. Scout, wait out here until I call for you.” 

“Auugghhhhh.”


	8. Scout's Exam

“Ow! Jeeze are you done yet, you creepo?” 

“If you vould schtop sqvirming I vould be finished by now.” Scout sat on the examination table as Medic methodically studied the young man’s hand stretched out in front of him. He wanted a better understanding of exactly how Scout was able to seemingly stick himself to the wall. Scout had always been a difficult patient to handle and now was no different; his constant fidgeting and complaining was wearing the doctor’s already stretched patience down to nothing. 

“Well..well fuckin’ hurry up then, I’m gonna miss dinner at this rate and I’m fuckin’ starv-NNG--” Scout gave a startled jump as Medic ran his gloved finger down his patient’s palm and back up again. “FUCK dawk, don’t DO that!” 

“Begnadigen Sie mich,” the doctor half-responded as he repeated the gesture, noting Scout’s increasing discomfort at the touch. To the naked eye Scout’s palm didn’t look remarkable in any way, but Medic found that his glove snagged on Scout’s skin if he dragged it in a particular direction. 

“Interesting,” he said to himself. Without letting go of Scout’s arm Medic shucked the thick blue glove off his free hand and touched Scout’s palm again with his bare fingers. It almost felt like Scout’s palm was covered in tiny little hooks right under the skin. Medic wondered what sort of tissue they could be made out of that could remain that small yet strong enough to grip and hold up the young man’s weight in order to climb the way he did. He moved his hand to Scout’s wrist; the skin there was smooth. So just the palms then. And also the soles of the feet, he assumed. Interesting. Medic thought of the amount of sugar Scout had been consuming lately; perhaps his craving for sweets was helping fuel the changes to his body. Medic wished he could get a good look at the skin under a microscope. So many questions, if only he had the tools he needed to properly examine and test his theories. But the infirmary was nowhere near equipped for those sorts of experiments, not like his old lab back in Stuttgart. Medic wondered if it would be possible to send for some of his old equipment. Oh but no, HQ still wasn’t answering the radios. He made a note to ask Engineer to try again to get hold of the higher-ups. 

A small whimper snapped Medic out of his pondering. He was so caught up with trying to understand what he was looking at that he had almost forgotten Scout was there, and that the object of his curiosity was the boy’s hand. Medic released Scout immediately with a half-hearted apology. 

“Jeezus dawk, I thought you were gonna rip my damn hand off there! Mother fuck.” 

“My apologies, Herr Scout,” Medic sat up and adjusted his glasses. “You may go to dinner now.” 

“‘Bout fuckin’ time, I’m starvin’.” Scout hopped off the table and headed toward the door. 

“One last thing before you leave.” Scout stopped at the door and let out an overdramatic, impatient sigh as Medic walked over to his desk and started rummaging through a drawer. Scout’s expression did a 180 when Medic handed him a small handful of colorful candies. Scout looked at the doctor with a confused look, but Medic’s expression remained flat. 

“Sugar. If ve did not haff such a food shortage at zhe moment I would suggest complex carbohydrates, protein, vhat have you, as your metabolism is apparently in overdrive to fuel zhese changes of yours. But you seem to be craving sugar, so I would suggest indulging that instinct until ve haff a better understanding of zhis, ja?” 

“Uh…” Scout looked down at the candies in his hand and back to the stony-faced Medic, “uh yeah, Dawk. Whatever you say, man.” 

“Wunderbar, tell Herr Engineer zat I vould like to see him next.”


	9. Pyro

“Py? Hello? You there, buddy?” Scout waved his hand in front of Pyro’s masked face. It was after dinner, which usually meant Scout and Pyro vegged out in front of the base’s small black and white television for a few hours. Pyro had been more sluggish than usual after the day’s battle, and after her turn in the infirmary she hadn’t moved from the couch. Scout wasn’t sure if she had even moved for the last couple of hours. He was half-afraid that she had died or something. He took a cautious poke at the blue chemsuit, and sighed a relief when Pyro moved in response. 

“Mrmph? Urf, srry Schwt,” Pyro shifted lazily in her seat after Scout snapped her out of her daze. Was the heat turned on? It wasn’t cold enough outside yet for that. Why was she so warm? Pyro shifted foward in her seat and rested her elbows on her thighs. 

“You feelin’ alright, man? You’re usually glued to the screen when Bewitched is on.” Scout had been sitting next to her on the couch with a bowl of what Pyro thought was just plain granulated sugar in his lap. The candies Medic had given him were long gone, he was trying to conserve his soda, and his head had been promised to Soldier if he even thought about eating the rest of the sugar cubes meant for tea. When Pyro gave what Scout could only guess was an accusing look he just scoffed and defended himself with a quick “Doctor’s orders, man, take it up with him,” as he put another spoonful of sugar into his mouth. 

“Hey, if you’re feelin’ weird maybe you should go to Medic. We’re supposed to let him know if anything starts happening to any of us.” 

“Nuuuu...” Pyro shook her head furiously, and regretted the motion immediately when the room started spinning. She’d been to the infirmary once already today, she wasn’t going back. Medic made her uncomfortable on the best days; he always asked prying personal questions and tried to get her to take off her mask and frankly she didn’t think it was anyone’s damn business what her face looked like. Spy got to keep his mask on, so leave her the hell alone about hers. Sure, maybe Pyro had been more tired than usual, maybe the chemsuit felt warmer than it should have today, but nothing weird was happening. She didn’t feel like decapitating people and eating their brains at least. 

“Ish it htt in hrr?” Pyro tugged at the collar around her mask in an attempt to get some fresh air into the suit. Maybe she had a fever. 

“What? Is it hot in here? Naw man, I feel fine. You sure you don’t wanna see the dawk?” Pyro stood up from the couch and waved a dismissing hand at Scout. No doctors. She’d be fine. She said goodnight to Scout and headed down into the main part of the base. The chemsuit was warm, certainly, but not like this. Pyro felt like she was melting. She hunched forward and sighed. If she wasn’t going to start feeling any better she might as well just give up on the day and get some rest. Maybe a night’s sleep would help. 

The door to the firestarter’s room clicked shut and Pyro slumped against it. Now in the safety of her room, she immediately tossed off her grubby gloves and reached for the filtered mask, tearing it off and throwing it to the floor. The air hitting her now exposed hands and face did little to help the searing heat she felt radiating from her body. She made a lurch towards her bed, but found that her body was sluggish and unwilling to follow commands, and she tumbled forward to the floor. 

Pyro laid on the floor for a moment, thinking that maybe she’d just sleep there for the evening, but was suddenly struck with an intense pain in her chest that caused her to curl up in a ball. It felt like her heart had been replaced with lava, the burning sensation growing hotter and hotter until she couldn’t stand it anymore. 

Pyro let out a blood-curdling scream as her vision turned red and her consciousness faded out.


	10. The Screaming Skull

Spy had been the closest to Pyro’s room when he heard the scream. 

He had decided to do a little sleuthing in the RED base. He doubted that the enemy team had been suffering from the same...whatever it was that his own team was facing (none of the REDs had tried to eat his brain, at least), but a little snooping never hurt. Maybe he could see if they were able to communicate with their superiors, or maybe just steal some food. Anything to distract him from the boredom and feeling of uselessness that was crushing him in his own base. 

If there was one thing that frustrated Spy it was not knowing something, and he had no idea what was happening. They had all grown accustomed to many of the bizarre gadgets and machinery they worked with every day, indeed the Respawn System could be powered by pixie dust for all anyone knew, but because it was all labeled under “Science” it all seemed believable no matter how ludicrous it actually was. Even the mechanical hand that the Engineer occasionally donned seemed to work on gasoline and magic and not much else, but because Engineer was able to spew out some equations and scientific sounding words to “prove” that it actually worked in a scientifically sound manner (and that replacing the severed arm with a flesh and blood one whenever he didn’t need the mechanical one was also a completely scientific and not-at-all-impossible process) nobody really batted an eye. 

He did know for certain that if he stayed in this base with no answers and nothing to do he would start getting paranoid over the thought that something strange might happen to him (certainly the tips of his fingers shouldn’t ache like that. Should his skin feel this dry?), so sneaking around the RED base would be something to do at the very least, and maybe he’d shake up some clues. 

His plans were interrupted however when he heard the scream from Pyro’s room. Most bases had an communal “barracks” full of bunk beds, but most bases were also full of enough empty rooms that after a few days of settling in the team would go and claim their own bit of privacy. This resulted in the team being spread all over the base during the evening, and Pyro’s room was located off from the main body of the farmhouse, close to the team’s spawnroom and out to the battlefield. The screaming intensified as Spy drew closer to Pyro’s room, as well as another sound Spy couldn’t quite identify. The hallway seemed much dryer and warmer than the adjoining ones, and when he tested the doorknob he drew his hand back quickly. The door was searing hot to the touch, even through his gloves, and puffs of black sooty smoke were wafting out of the bottom of the door. Suddenly Spy recognized the previously unidentifiable sound: Pyro’s room was on fire. 

“Merde,” Spy muttered to himself as he tried to make a plan. It was difficult to think with all the terrible screaming. He was worried more about the safety of the base than the safety of Pyro; she would die soon anyway and appear in the safety of the Respawn Room nearby. Pyro’s room was on the inside of the base, and the walls were all made of concrete, so perhaps the best course of action would be to leave the door shut and let the fire burn itself out. 

“INCOMING!!” 

Spy whipped around in time to see the Heavy barreling towards him, Sascha in hand. He must’ve heard the screaming and come running, assuming the worst. But unlike Spy, Heavy seemed to think there was no problem he couldn’t solve by running head-first into it, guns blazing. 

“Non, ‘eavy, non!” 

Spy didn’t have time to duck out of the way before Heavy slammed himself and his minigun into Pyro’s door. The reaction was immediate, and as soon as the door broke down both Heavy and Spy were engulfed in an explosive backdraft as the hallway air hit the oxygen-depleted fire in Pyro’s room. Spy was knocked backwards into the wall behind him by the flames, his clothing catching fire as if he was covered in lighter fluid. He cursed and coughed; burning was by far his least favorite way to die. Spy caught a glimpse of Pyro’s blue chemsuit in the center of the inferno, and before he was completely consumed by the flames he saw Pyro turn to look at him, nothing more than a burning, screaming skeleton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more to this story, which can be read on the /fanfic/ board of tf2chan, but I'm heavily rewriting certain parts of the story (particularly Medic, as Meet the Medic came out after most of Harvest was written and revealed that my "crazy" version of Medic was actually pretty much "canon" Medic), and the "finished" version will be posted here.


	11. Doktor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a brand new chapter not posted to TF2chan. I changed Medic around from the original version since, when I wrote it, I intended for his transformation to be more of a mad scientist. With the release of Meet the Medic, his canon personality wasn't so much different from the "monster" I had turned him into, so I decided to go off in a different direction with him.

Heavy stumbled out of the Respawn room and immediately headed towards the Infirmary. Little Pyro’s room had been on fire, and she hadn’t respawned along with him and Spy after the backdraft explosion. She must still be in there, and if that were the case, and she wasn’t going to die, she needed Medic’s help.

“Doktor!” Heavy burst through the Infirmary doors without knocking, “We need your help! Little Pyro, she--” Heavy cut off when he saw that the room was empty. The lights were on, and there was a record spinning on the doctor’s gramophone, but the record had ended and the only sound was a rhythmic clicking of the needle as the record went round.

“Doktor?” Pyro was temporarily forgotten as Heavy searched the infirmary for his friend. There was nothing he could do for her without the Medic’s help, anyway, so he turned his focus on figuring out what had happened. There was unfinished paperwork on Medic’s desk, which Heavy knew meant he must be still in the room. The man could be easily distracted and a little manic at times, but Heavy had never known him to leave paperwork unfinished.

A sound coming from the the other side of the room caught his attention, coming from the currently unlit part of the room that contained the rarely-used patient cots. Heavy looked down and noticed a few smears of blood pointing towards them. Blood wasn’t an uncommon thing in the Infirmary, but this was fresh, still wet.

“Doktor, are you there? Is okay?” The Russian was suddenly very apprehensive about investigating the darkened corner of the room. With all the strange happenings with the team lately, literally anything could be over there. It could be nothing. Or it could be that Soldier had decided to ambush and eat the Doktor, leaving him half alive on the floor. A shot of panic ran through the Heavy at that thought.

A pained groan coming from the corner steeled his resolve. Doktor needed his help. He followed the blood smears to the darkened area of the infirmary. Another moan sent him searching for the light. He knew just about anything could be waiting for him, but he was still not expecting what he saw.

“Doktor!” Heavy ran over and knelt in front of the Medic’s collapsed, bloody body. The doctor was naked from the waist up and face down on the linoleum in a pool of his own blood. There were bloody gashes all over his sides, cutting from his armpits down to his hips, and his arms were absolutely drenched in blood. No, no those weren’t his arms, his arms were under his body and bloody up to the elbow. Heavy wasn’t sure what he was looking at. There were two...somethings that he had mistaken for arms sticking out of the doctor’s bloody shoulders, looking as if they had ripped through the skin on his back. They looked kind of like another set of arms, but they ended in strange, deformed-looking hands. Heavy tried to roll the unconscious doctor over, but the Medic yelped in pain at the Russian’s first touch.

“Heavy don’t....” the doctor wheezed, “...don’t touch zhem...”

“Doktor! What happened? Are you--” he was about to ask if the doctor was okay, but obviously he wasn’t. “What are--?” He had no idea what to say or do.

“Vings...” Medic said in a pained whisper, “zhey are vings...”


	12. Entire Team is Monsters

“Whole team is monsters. We vill be next.” 

“That’s an exaggeration. It ain’t even half.” 

“Give it time.” 

The battle was decidedly lop-sided. While Engineer did his best to stick to his duties, a few of his teammates seemed to have lost the will to keep going. Spy, sitting on Engineer’s Dispenser, had a theory that the Respawn was behind the team’s changes, and seemed keen on staying far away from fighting. Soldier had some choice words to say about that, involving many obscenities and creative euphemisms about the French. 

Poor Pyro sat on the ground next to the dispenser, arms wrapped tightly around her legs and looking fairly miserable. The backdraft explosion that had sent Spy and Heavy to the Respawn room had alerted the rest of the team to the situation with Pyro, and after a significant amount of confusion she was finally pulled from the room and the fire had been extinguished. The term “spontaneous combustion” had been tossed around, but that had been the only semi-scientific explanation offered to her current situation. Pyro was still on fire, burning from some sort of mysterious fuel source that didn’t seem to effect her flame-retardant suit (not flame-proof, as Engineer had been quick to point out when nobody else thought it was strange that her suit didn’t burn) or her skeleton, which was the only part of her entire body that hadn’t been consumed by the flames. 

As soon as Pyro had stopped screaming Medic had tried desperately to examine her – how was she still capable of movement without muscles? Where was the fire coming from? Why did it continue to burn? She discovered that the only sound she was able to make was that terrible screaming, but without lungs, or any organs for that matter, how did she make noise at all? Pyro would have none of the doctor’s questions, however, and even though her expressionless mask had been replaced with her expressionless skull it was still clearly obvious through body language that she was terrified of the Medic, and seemed to blame the exam from earlier in the evening for her current state. She hadn’t tried to communicate since then, instead she just sat quietly away from everybody, generally looking as miserable and meek as possible. Or as meek as a flaming skeleton was capable of looking. 

Medic wasn’t even there. Even if he could have been convinced that their routine battles weren’t completely useless at this point, he couldn’t carry his gear anyway, as his wings--wings, for cryin’ out loud--made it impossible to wear his coat, let alone the medigun’s backpack. After the Pyro had refused any sort of examination after Medic deemed her in a stable condition, he had sequestered himself into the Infirmary to study his own transformation. The feathers hadn’t yet grown in completely, but they were well on their way, and he was far more interested in them than anything the rest of the team had to offer, especially if the rest of the team was going to be difficult about letting him examine them.

Perhaps the most surprising member of this little group of non-fighters was the Heavy, who sat a respectable distance from Pyro, but still within the confines of Engineer’s nest, close to the sentry that the Texan had been fussing with. Sascha was sitting next to him, and it was clear that he had no intentions of using the gigantic minigun during this battle. Engineer gave the sentry one last whack with his wrench and the mechanisms inside spun around, turning the level two into a level three. Not that it would get any use in this position, but Engineer felt like he had to do something. Soldier and Demo had slaughtered the REDs so many times already they were hesitant to even leave their own base, and the few offensive pushes they had attempted had ended with their brains in Soldier’s mouth. The RED Spy had tried to slip by the duo cloaked, but it had been discovered that whatever was causing Demo’s eye to shine with that unnatural orange glow also allowed the Scot to see through cloaks. 

Unlike the rest, there was no semi-but-not-really-scientific explanation for Demo’s situation. He had had the giant broadsword for awhile now, and he had always claimed it had been haunted. Indeed Engineer might have been inclined to admit to seeing a similar glow in his eye on the battlefield that he sported now, but whatever was going on with the Scot’s sword before seemed to be amplified to extreme degrees here. Engineer didn’t even know if it was Demo or the sword speaking anymore. 

The war had felt a bit pointless for awhile before their transfer to Harvest, but nobody really complained. Thanks to Respawn, the battles were less like battles and more like big war games. But the teams were well-balanced, the outcome of every match could never be predicted, and sometimes the battles could even be, dare it be said, fun. But now, with Demo and Soldier demonizing the enemy team with such brutality over and over and over again, most of the rest of the BLUs didn’t see much of a point in continuing to fight. Sniper, like Engineer, still stuck to his duties, ferreted away in a nest somewhere, but his rifle hadn’t fired the entire battle. Scout was too busy running and jumping around the battlefield to remember to fight, but it’s not like it really mattered. 

“Does anybody know where ze road leads?” All eyes (and flaming eye-sockets) turned towards Spy perched on top of the Dispenser. He was looking off to the single road that cut through Harvest. The team was transferred from base to base in the back of a non-descript vehicle that lacked windows, presumably for the safety of the team, since they would be outside the area that Respawn covered and BLU didn’t want any surprise attacks when they were vulnerable, but the result was that nobody knew exactly where they were in relation to the rest of civilization. 

“What, yer not thinkin’ of goin’ AWOL are ya?” 

“Curiosity only, Laborer. Just going over all options in case HQ decides to abandon us here, zat is all.” 

Pyro let out a small, short shriek at that, and when the other three focused their attention on the skeleton she went to move her gloved hands in front of her mouth, as if she didn’t mean to let out the noise. 

“Nah, Py, HQ wouldn’t abandon us.” Engineer said reassuringly, seemingly understanding Pyro’s squawk. “They gotta come through soon, there’s no way they wouldn’t be interested in what’s going on here. I’m sure they’ll figure out a way to fix you up, girl.” 

“Or just put her in a lab to study,” Spy said flippantly. 

“Spah you are not helping things here. Poor gal’s scared out of her mind and all yer doin’ is makin’ it worse.” 

“And I am trying to be realistic, Laborer. I see no reason to fool yourself into thin–” 

“VICTORY.” The automated voice of the Announcer suddenly crackled over the speakers. 

“Finally,” Spy slipped off the Dispenser and crushed his cigarette under his heel. “I do not know why I even came out here today.” Spy walked into the Spawn Room and through the back door that led to the base without looking back towards his teammates.


	13. Back to Respawn

Engineer was at a loss. He sat in the Respawn Room staring at the machinery that made sure they never stayed dead during their endless war games, but like always, he couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was looking at. 11 Ph.Ds accounted for diddly piss when it came to Respawn, and it frustrated the Engineer to no end. 

“Giving up so soon, Laborer?” 

“Dag nabbit, Spah!” Engineer gave a jump and glared behind him where the European had materialized, “How many gat-danged times do I gotta tell you not to do that?” 

“Oh, but your frustration is music to my ears, mon ami.” Spy placed his hands on the Engineer’s shoulders, knowing the invasion of personal space was one of the Texan’s pet peeves. “And what with our current…situation…one must take amusement where one can get it, yes?” 

“I ain’t even sure it is the Respawn anymore.” Engineer threw up his hands and walked out and away from under Spy’s grasp. “Fool thing looks no diff’rent to me than it ever did. Headquarters don’t see fit t’show me how it works, and I sure as hell ain’t gonna tear her apart to figure it out myself while we’re all wired up to it.” He tossed his hardhat in a corner and sat down hard on a crate. 

“But it must be ze Respawn, no?” Spy leaned into the machine and gave a glass vial a cautious poke. “What else could be responsible for ze changes to our, what would it be, our genetic structure?” 

“Heck I guess you could call it that. That don't really explain it, but what does? Why’re you so sure it’s this dang machine what’s ‘causing this anyways?” 

Spy hestitated. “I...I ‘ave my reasons.” 

“And these reasons are secret?” Engineer was curious now. There was obviously something nagging the Spy enough for the man to show outward signs of uncertainty. Everybody was confused and worried about the team’s current situation, but Spy had a legendary poker face, and if something was bothering him so much that it showed so obviously, well, Engineer just knew there was something Spy wasn’t telling him. 

Spy sighed and his shoulder’s sagged. He looked away from the Respawn machinery and over at the Engineer in the corner. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but shut it wordlessly. He tried again. 

“Ze ozzer day,” he sighed, “zat Russian buffoon sent me to ze Respawn because he didn’t realize that he could not defeat a fire wiz expensive ‘boolets.’” 

“Yeah, we all remember that, Spah.” Well that was anti-climactic. Here Engineer thought Spy was going to tell him something he didn’t know. 

“Ze point I am making, Engineer,” he snapped, walking closer to the crate the Texan was sitting on. “Ze point,” he repeated, sliding one of his hands out of it’s soft leather glove, “iz zat I do not believe I had claws until after I Respawned.” 

Engineer stared for a moment. “Aw shit, not you too?” He leaned forward to get a closer look at the fingers Spy was waggling in front of him dramatically. Sure enough, it looked as if his fingernails been replaced with short, yet very sharp claws. “Is this the only change?” 

“Ze...ze only change!?” Spy snatched his hand back from the Texan with an offended look on his face. “Monsieur, I do not think you comprehend what has happened here! My fingernails fell off! Off! Do you know what zat feels like? Zen zese ‘orrible little…little zings grew up through ze nail beds!” He replaced the glove onto his hand and turned his back on the Engineer in a huff. “It was excruciating! How can you ask me if zat is ze ONLY change?” 

“Calm down, Spah, I wasn’t tryin’ to imply nothin’,” he held up his hands in a placating gesture, trying not to let it show on his face how amused he was that Spy had gotten all worked up over what was, all this considered, a minor inconvenience when compared to what some of the other team members had gone through. “it’s just that when you compare it to turnin’ into a flamin’ skeleton or needing to eat brains to keep yer undead corpse from rotting, a lil’ thing like pussy-cat claws seems a mite, well, it ain’t that big of a thing, y’know? I reckon you got off light compared to the others.” 

“It shouldn’t be happening at all!” Spy threw his hands up in frustration. “If your fingernails fell off I bet you wouldn’t be acting so--” 

The Respawn machine suddenly came to life, cutting off whatever insults the Spy had planned to throw at the Engineer. Both attentions were diverted to the machinery as the Medic materialized, coughing and panting onto the floor of the Respawn Room. It was the first either of them had seen of the Medic since they brought Pyro to see him, and the wings on his back were now fully feathered and draped around him as the doctor tried to regain his composure on the floor from the sudden Respawn.

“Doc! What in tarnation happened to you? Are we under attack? I didn't hear th'sirens!” Engineer jumped up to help the doctor off the floor, but as soon as he reached out to grab the German’s arm, he was swatted away. 

“Ach, I’m fine, I’m fine, Herr Engineer.” He got himself to a shaky stand, waving off the Engineer’s help and giggling to himself. 

“Oh ho, well zat vas fun, ja? You know, when Herr Soldat tells you not to try to steal his organs, he really isn’t kidding!” He brushed off the front of his dress shirt - altered with cuts up the back to fit the wings - and laughing off what Engineer guessed was the reason for Medic’s trip to Respawn. 

“You know, I have been killed many, many times since signing zhat BLU contract, but being eaten alive is certainly a new experience. You should try it zometime, I’m sure ze Soldier would not mind giving a demonstration. Very interesting.” He brought one of his wings in front of him and began to examine it. “Oh, excellent, it seems zhese have come through Respawn unscathed, I am glad I don’t have to cut zhem out of my back again.” He looked up for the first time at his audience; all glum faces and shocked expressions. 

“Vhat is wrong with you two?” 

The Medic gazed at the Spy and the Engineer with a curious look in his eye. His teammates were sullen and grumpy looking, a marked difference from the doctor’s jovial demeanor. 

“Yer awfully chipper for having just been eaten by your undead teammate, Doc. Don’t any of this, I don’t know, don’t any of this spook you none?” The Medic started giggling even before Engineer finished talking. He removed his glasses and wiped his eyes, the strange grin never leaving his face. 

“My dear hard-hatted friend, vhat is zere to be afraid of? Ze worst zat could happen is death, and thanks to Herr Machine here,” he replaced his glasses and patted the side of the Respawn machine, “zat is only a minor inconvenience at most, ja? I admit, I was concerned when these grew in,” his wings moved a bit, as if gesturing, ”but once I got a handle on zhem, I vas free to focus my attention back on zhe rest of ze team.” 

“But what if we can’t figger out a way to reverse what’s happened here? I can’t make heads or tails of any of this.” 

“Zen we learn all we can! Honestly, Engineer, I expected more curiosity from a fellow man of science! Zhis is an amazing opportunity for study, vhen else vill I be able to vivisect the dead? Or examine a survivor of spontaneous combustion? I now have six limbs! No vertebrate in ze vorld has six limbs! And I do believe that our dear demoman has actually been possessed by an honest to Gott demon. Can you imagine!” he spun around, long white wings fluttering with a dramatic flourish around him as he spoke with increased enthusiasm. “The amount of discoveries we find here vill be enough to put us in ze history books forever, Engineer. Forget ze Respawn, zhat is true immortality!” 

“But these are our teammate’s Doc, we ain’t no got danged lab rats!” 

“Eh,” Medic shrugged and started to head towards the door, “I am not saying zis is the ideal environment I would have chosen for such research, but beggars can’t be choosers, as zey say, ja? Ones such as ourselves should alvays be learning from our circumstances, after all! In ze meantime,” he stopped at the door to the hallway and turned to face Engineer and Spy, “I recommend ve all take advantage of zhis singular situation. You two are the only ones not having any fun! But for now I must check on ze Scout, I zink he might be pupating.” And with that, the doctor turned out of the room, wings fluttering behind him and giggling to himself. 

The two left in the room said nothing for a few moments. 

“Welp. Looks like th'Doc won't be any help to us.” Engineer broke the silence. 

"He said we were ze only two not 'enjoying' zhis madness. If zhat is true..." Spy took out a cigarette and deftly lit it and held it up to his lips. He put on his best air of nonchalance, but Engineer could see the slight tremble at the tips of the European’s fingers. 

“...I do not wish to know what has become of ze Heavy."


	14. C'mere Sweetheart

BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM. 

“Go away!” 

“Negatory, private! You have been holed up in your room for DAYS. There is a battle in TEN MINUTES and YOU WILL BE THERE.” 

“Come the fuck on! Those pussy REDs ain’t shown up for a single fight since you and Drinky McSwordsalot freakin’ camped out on their respawn. Ain’t been a battle in days, and there ain’t gonna be a battle today, man! Leave me the fuck alone!” 

“MAGGOT. YOU WILL OPEN THIS DOOR THIS INSTANT.” 

“DON’T YOU FUCKIN’ CALL ME THAT.” 

Pyro had had enough of this. She should have known this was a bad idea when Soldier had been the only team member to agree to help her get Scout out of his room. Pyro was beginning to think her unintelligible shrieks and screams would have had a better effect in drawing Scout out, because sure as hell Soldier’s rantings weren’t having the desired effect. She punched Soldier in the arm and glared at him. Or at least she knew she was glaring at him, he probably couldn’t tell since she hadn’t any skin on her face. And he was missing at least one eyeball. 

“This isn’t helping!” Pyro tried to say. It came out more like “EEEK SHRIEEK EEEEE” but the intent was there, she hoped. 

“SWEETIE PIE, IF YOU’RE JUST GOING TO STAND THERE SCREAMING AT ME YOU COULD AT LEAST HAVE A SANDWICH IN YOUR HAND WHILE DOING IT SO YOU WOULDN’T BE COMPLETELY USELESS. I HAVEN’T EATEN ANYTHING IN A WEEK AND BONES ARE LOOKING MIGHTY CRUNCHY RIGHT NOW.” 

Pyro huffed and opened her jaws to make an indecipherable rebuttal, but before she could give Soldier a proper shrieking Scout’s door opened. Pyro ducked reflexively when she heard the scattergun go off, and she was being pulled into the room before she realized that Soldier’s head was now in several pieces on the floor. She hit the floor of the room right as the door slammed shut, and Scout’s desk was shoved up against it. Scout himself had slumped against the side of the desk, and when Pyro stood up to get a better look at him, he cringed and shied away. 

“Scout?” she tried to say. It came out more of a “SKREET?” but she hoped the intention was there. 

“Look okay, ev’rythin’s fucked, aright? I didn’t want Soldier out there eatin’ you so I hadda do somethin’, but that don’t mean I really wanna talk okay?” Scout scooted a little more away from Pyro and into the shadows created by the desk and the corner of his room. “Besides, conversations wid you are a little one-sided nowadays. Not that they were crystal clear ever before, but you know what I mean.” 

The firestarter sighed in a way that she hoped came across as an “I understand” and took a look around the boy’s room. It was smaller than her own room, and located at the edge of the base, rather than in the middle like hers had been. They were still in the underground portion of the base, but the complex was built into a hill, and Scout’s room had a small window near the top of the wall that let in some of the light from the afternoon sun. Something caught her eye at the end of the bed. 

“Yeah I know, it’s wicked gross.” Pyro took a closer look only to see that it was some sort of amber-colored crystallized material. When she realized it had Scout’s face she turned her eye-sockets back on the boy in the corner. She could see him properly now. Medic had been babbling some sort of excited talk about “pupating” and “cocooning” earlier that day, and Pyro realized that the crazy German (who seemed to be getting more manic by the hour, enjoying himself far too much) had been right. 

“This, man, this shit ain’t fun anymore, you know?” He slowly stood up from the corner and walked towards Pyro with his head hanging. The most noticeable change were his arms, and how he had four of them now. His hands weren’t at all human-looking; more like three fingered claws covered in hard, blackish skin that softened into more human-like skin as it approached his torso. He also sported decent-sized iridescent wings that were growing out of his shoulderblades. It looked like he had attempted to put on his uniform, and was able to manage the pants and the socks (which were more like leggings as his feet matched his hands now and the claws had torn through the fabric), but the shirt was in tatters with holes crudely ripped out of the sides and the back. It almost wasn’t even a shirt anymore. 

“It was cool when I was all Spider-Man, but fuck, this is some fuckin’ Vincent Price bullshit. Only instead of a fly I’m some sorta, like grasshopper thing. This is bullshit. I don’t wanna do this no more.” He looked up at Pyro with a look on his face that would probably be tear-stained if not for the large green and black compound eyes that had replaced his old eyes. Scout also had some sort of antennae coming out of his forehead, and they nervously twitched around as he fidgeted. His lower face had been left fairly unchanged, which was probably a blessing, Pyro thought to herself as she conjured up images of insect faces in her mind. 

After a few awkward minutes of silence between a, flaming skeleton and a half-insect monster-man, Pyro broke the stare with a strange undulating shriek and looked around the room. She searched around the drawers of Scout’s desk until she let out a short yelp of victory. She scribbled a short note on the pad of paper she had found and held it up in front of Scout’s face. 

“‘You...look’,” Scout began, trying to read her scribbled handwriting, “‘you look like..Jiminy Cricket.’ Oh fuck you, Mumbles.” He snatched the pad of paper from Pyro’s gloved hand and threw it across the room. “I’m way more like The Fly than Pin-fuckin’-nocchio, you dumb broad.” Pyro put her hands up to what was left of her face and giggled, which sounded more like a “nak nak nak nak” than a proper laugh. Scout smiled at that and looked down at his hands. 

“Tell me the truth though, Firebug, I don’t make you wanna puke just by lookin’ at me, do I?” 

Pyro pointed to her visible skull and gave a shrug. She doubted she was the right person to be answering that particular question. Then the door exploded. 

“MAGGOTS. I WILL EAT YOUR RIBS.” It was about that time when Soldier returned from Respawn. They both discovered quickly that Soldier had not forgotten how to use his rocket launcher, and that he was not picky when it came to ribs.


	15. If I Were a Chicken

The REDs hadn’t shown up to a battle in weeks. October was drawing to a close, and without an opposing team to fight, the BLU team had started to fall apart (literally, in the case of the Soldier). Nobody would have noticed Spy slipping out on a normal basis, but with the team as disorganized as it was, nobody even stopped to consider he was missing. As he snuck into the RED base through their respawn he noticed the complete lack of security their base had. The BLU base looked ramshackle from the outside, but it had security measure after security measure to insure no RED would sneak into the living quarters during a battle and wreak havoc on their personal belongings or the inner workings of their base. If RED base had any of those features they were not implemented, and Spy found himself in the bowels of the base quite easily. 

It was like all the other bases he had infiltrated during his tenure at BLU; nearly completely identical to his own base, save for minor differences such as red painted walls (naturally) and a preference for wood and other natural building materials instead of BLU’s preference for concrete and metal. It was also, he noticed, empty. 

Normally this would be ideal for espionage, as no one around means nobody to catch you, but instead it left Spy feeling more on edge than he normally would in such a situation. He found his way into the living area of the base and noticed some other dire signs; blood splatter here and there, the occasional piece of furniture wedged up against a door, doors completely torn off their hinges and thrown against a wall. 

There was also a strange smell in the air, one Spy couldn’t readily identify but reminded him of, what was that? Ham? Bacon? Had a breakfast been recently cooked before whatever had caused this damage occurred? Where did the RED team get meat? When was the last time he had eaten something that wasn’t a thin pumpkin soup or stale coffee? Sniper had been gone for days, leaving the few members of the team that still needed food to fend for themselves, and Spy hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until just now. 

What the hell was he even looking for in here? There were signs of a struggle, yes, but no physical evidence outside of bent metal, broken wood, and old bloodstains. Where was the RED team? Their Respawn machine didn’t seem broken when Spy passed it on his way into the base; if killing had been done here they would have just rematerialized. They hadn’t abandoned the base, had they? Spy suddenly felt a pang of jealousy at that thought. A day couldn’t go by without him thinking about just walking away, seeing if he could make it to some form of civilization before he starved to death in the desert, but something always kept him at Harvest. 

Spy realized that he had been absent-mindedly following the food smell through the base, and it had led him not towards the kitchen like he had expected, but instead down to the part of the base that contained the infirmary. Bad sign. His teeth itched. Another bad sign. He vaguely recalled his fingernails itching shortly before they fell off and those horrible little claws grew in. He had been so careful to avoid respawn since the incident with Pyro’s room, but who knew if the respawn was the cause of all this madness or just a coincidence? 

He stopped walking as soon as he heard sounds; the first since he had come into the base. The sounds grew louder as he neared the infirmary doors. The delicious smell continued to grow stronger as well, and Spy found himself conflicted between excitement at the promise of real food and dread as he came closer to the infirmary doors. The sounds were more recognizable now. A soft buzzing sound along with...was that singing? 

//“...Ich wollt ich wär ein Huhn, ich hätt nicht viel zu tun, ich legte vormittags ein Ei und abends wär ich frei...”// 

Merde. 

The buzzing got louder. The Spy heard voices other than the singing. He activated his cloak. 

“...please...stop, please...” 

//“...Mich lockte auf der Welt kein Ruhm mehr und kein Geld. Und fände ich das große Los, dann fräße ich esbloß. Ich brauchte nie mehr ins Büro...”// 

Merde. 

Shit. 

Spy stood outside the door of the infirmary. He knew whatever was in that room was something he did not want to see. But he was a grown man, he had seen many terrible things in his life. He was a mercenary, a Spy, it was his job to know what was happening in that room. That delicious bacon-like smell wafted out the doors again. His teeth itched again. 

Fuck it. 

He pushed the door open as slowly as possible and peered in. The room was dark, darker than the hallways, save for a light peeking from around the corner at the far end of the room. He walked in cautiously, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the low light. The whimpering, the buzzing, and the soft singing grew stronger. Spy knew it was their Medic, that much was obvious. The RED team Medic was German as well, but the dialect was a different one, and their voices were easily distinguishable to the Spy. What was the BLU Medic doing in the bowels of the RED base? 

//“...Ich wäre dämlich, aber froh. Ich wollt, ich wär ein Huhn, ich hätt nicht viel zu tun, ich legte täglich nur ein Ei und sonntags auch mal zwei...”// 

“...dawk...dawk c’mon man...aauugh!” 

The Spy rounded the corner towards the light, and while he knew whatever had been happening here was not going to be pleasant, he was not prepared for what his eyes saw. 

The RED’s Scout was strapped to one of the medical tables, sedated but not unconscious. The BLU’s Medic sat next to him, his back towards the Spy, white wings covered in blood and gore, absently singing his song as he had Scout’s freed left arm stretched out in front of him, and was methodically drilling holes into the boy’s arms with what looked like a drill of some sort. Spy gasped at the sight before he could stop himself. 

The buzzing and the singing stopped, but the whimpering continued. Medic sat up from his “project” and turned around to where Spy was cloaked. The Medic was wearing a beak-like mask that obscured his face, and Spy recognized as the plague doctor masquerade mask the man had kept on display in his infirmary before all this madness started.

“Ah! Herr Spy!” Medic exclaimed. Spy stood there dumbfounded; he still had his cloak on didn’t he? 

“I know you’re there, mein freund! Do not be shy! Come! Come! You must see my research, it is quite fascinating, quite fascinating indeed!” He placed the drill aside and turned back towards the Scout. Spy dropped the cloak. He didn’t know how the Medic saw him, but that seemed unimportant at the moment. 

“Ze current theory is that Respawn is responsible for the odd changes happening in our team, but I do not sink zat is ze case!” he talked in an animated, giddy tone. “You see, ze RED team has not been affected ze way we have, which I found most curious! So I came to ze base, captured ze team, and sent zem through respawn ovah and ovah again. No changes!” The Medic continued to poke at the restrained Scout, examining the holes he made in the boy’s arm in what looked like a very painful manner. The Scout whined and writhed, but had no real energy left to put up a proper fight. He must’ve been on that table for a long time, Spy thought. 

“So I tried a different tactic, you see? Perhaps a certain series of events had to happen to trigger a change. But what, I do not know!” 

“What does keeping zhis boy alive prove, Docteur?” Spy sneered down at the poor half-dead thing on the table. 

“Oh nothing, Herr Spy. I finished my experiments long ago. I have concluded zhat ze BLU team is quite unique in our predicament.” 

It was then that Spy realized they were not alone in the infirmary. All the tables, draped and obscured in the shadows, contained bodies. Living bodies, Spy observed. It was the rest of the missing RED team. 

“Now I am just haffing fun. Ze human body, it is a very interesting machine, and so much fun to disassemble.” With that he grasped the Scout’s perforated arm and gave it a sharp twist, neatly cracking and snapping the entire thing off halfway up the forearm. Spy gave a startled yelp as the Scout gave a terrible cry before finally passing out from shock. The Medic grinned triumphantly beneath his mask as he held the boy’s severed arm in his blood covered hands. Talons, Spy corrected himself. The Medic’s hands seemed to be roughly scaled now, with sharp claws on the ends of his fingers. Spy thought of his own claws and shuddered. 

“Wunderbar! Anozzah success!” he exclaimed as he whipped around towards one of the darkened corners of the room. Spy’s nose was assaulted with that same oddly delicious smell he had encountered in the hallway. “Heavy, mein Gummibärchen, look what I haff for you!” 

Suddenly Spy became aware of the hulking mass in the dark corner of the room. Spy hadn’t even seen the Heavy in days, not since the battles had stopped, but when the Heavy’s eyes opened as two pinpricks of glowing yellow light from the corner Spy knew whatever had happened to him could not be good. The Medic whistled a jaunty tune as he trotted over to the Heavy, the RED Scout’s hand and forearm tucked under his armpit like it was a rolled up newspaper. He flicked on a light to illuminate the corner. 

Something had happened to Heavy, but what, Spy couldn’t even begin to figure out. He looked even larger than normal, and his skin appeared to be criss-crossed with multiple stitches, making his skin look reminiscent of a quilt. Spy didn’t understand exactly what he was looking at until he saw a dark patch of skin stitched across the man’s shoulder; it was unmistakably that of the RED team’s Demo. 

“Herr Heavy is very interesting indeed, my Spy. At first I thought his body had died yet allowed him to still remain conscious, like our Soldat, but zhis was not ze case! Yes, he died, quite suddenly, but I was able to reanimate him back to life!” He gestured wildly as he produced a scalpel and began peeling the skin away from the freshly severed hand. 

“Unlike Soldier, who has no metabolism at all, Heavy’s metabolism, it is a thing of beauty! Herr Spy you must see for yourself.” With that he dragged the scalpel across the Heavy’s bicep. The Heavy showed no sign of pain, only a mild acknowledgment that anything at all had happened. With a few deft strokes the Medic had removed a slice of skin from his teammate and wasted no time in slapping skin from the Scout’s severed arm in it’s place. 

“Do you see? Do you see??” he was nearly manic now, “Look! It is already healing around the new skin, accepting it as it’s own flesh! I cannot find foreign organic human material zhat zhis body will not accept and adapt to! Can you imagine ze possibilities, my friend? Every blood type is acceptable! His body does not reject transplants! If I could understand what was at work here, I could advance the operational medical field by decades! Isn’t zhat wunderful??” 

Spy just stood slack-jawed as the scene played out in front of him. He tried to say something, anything, to express exactly what he was feeling. He tried to turn and run away from the mad doctor, he tried to will his body to do anything, but it was glued to the spot until his brain could fully comprehend what was happening. His teeth itched. The hammy bacon smell was back. He took a few sniffs of it to figure out exactly where it was coming from. Medic noticed. 

“Oh! Oh how absolutely thoughtless of me! You must forgive me, Herr Spion, I haff been here so long I haff forgotten vhat it must smell like down here!” He removed his plague doctor mask and flipped it around to show Spy. “It’s just a masquerade mask, so it doesn’t work exactly like ze real zhing, but I packed ze nose vith soap, cologne, and ozzer pleasant zings to protect me from ze smell.” He laughed as he replaced the mask, “You must admit, it goes well with ze rest of me, ja?” He gave another laugh and spread his wings, splattering some of the gore stuck to the ends of the feathers against the Heavy. The Heavy did not acknowledge it.

“Why...why would you need to protect yourself from ze smell, Docteur?” 

The doctor looked at Spy as if Spy were the madman. 

“Herr Spy, do you not smell zhis? Zhis entire room reeks of rotting and decomposing flesh.” 

All Spy could smell was delicious, mouth watering food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Medic is singing is "Ich Wollt Ich Wär Ein Huhn" which can be heard here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1hgUx9h3nU4
> 
> The lyrics are roughly about how the singer wishes they were a chicken because they wouldn't have to do much. Something light and silly to sing while dismembering a living human.


	16. State of Affairs

“Okay so, we’re obviously livin’ in some sorta wicked haunted place that’s turnin’ us all inta monstahs. I don’t see how this is a difficult concept for you brainiacs to grasp.” 

“Scout, please...” 

“Nuh-uh, Tex! I’ve been lettin’ the eggheads ‘round here try to figure this out an’ fix us, but ain’t none a-yah’s done it yet. So it’s my turn, alright? I been readin’ comic books since I could read...” 

“...so only two years, zhen?” 

“Can it, Frenchie! What I’m sayin’ here is that this is some sorta straight-up Tales from the Crypt bullshit right here. And until we can find the ancient Indian Burial Ground we disturbed or whatever the fuck is causing this, we ain’t goin’ back to normal.” 

Scout turned back towards the blackboard before anyone else could argue and began scribbling the names of all the classes in chalk. It was a difficult process that he had to restart several times as his second right hand kept trying to join in, resulting in a scribbled mess. He was getting better with coordinating his new appendages; he wasn’t absentmindedly grabbing at objects or teammates anymore and he only broke a few things before adjusting to the wings on his back, but the little shits still seemed to have a mind of their own and no amount of Scout yelling at them made them behave. 

The “sane” members of the team were gathered in Engineer’s workshop, the door barred and locked. Scout, Pyro, Engineer, and Spy had become unwilling roommates for the time being. At first they had made the Respawn Room their headquarters while Engineer tinkered with the machine, but between the room’s several doors, windows, and the frequent deaths experienced by the other team members, they discovered quickly that Engineer’s workshop was far safer for their health. 

With the exception of Pyro, who just sat quietly in the corner most days, they had all grown tired of the Scout’s unending energy within the first few hour, and now it was all they could do to stop themselves from strangling the insect-man every time he opened his mouth. 

“Alright alright. Okay so for reference heah, let’s just keep track of this bullshit that’s happened. Soldier’s a zombie,” he scribbled “zombie” next to Soldier’s name, “Demo’s a demon or some shit. Shit, any of you seen him lately? I sweah t’gawd he’s got horns n’ shit now. Motherfuck he is terrifyin’.” 

“Yes, Scout, we know.” 

“Pyro’s a screamin’ skeleton that’s on fiah, whatever the fuck the word for somethin’ like that is. I’m a goddamned grasshopper fly monstah--” 

“The word for you is ‘pest’, garçon.” 

“Shove it, Fangs! Spy’s a fuckin’ vampire--” 

“I am not a vampire!” 

“Sure you are! You got claws an’ fangs an’ shit an’ you think humans smell delicious!” 

“Do not talk of things you know nozzing about, you obnoxious little flea!” 

“Calm down, Spy. He’s just tryin’ to rile ya.” 

“Well he is succeeding!” Spy stood up and kicked at the box he had been standing on. After returning with news of what had become of the RED team, Spy had promptly collapsed under a wave of nausea. What he had seen had finally sunken in, and as he upended his stomach contents onto the floor his teeth followed suit. After a panicked struggle that resulted in Engineer getting a face full of claws for his trouble, Spy had calmed down enough to pass out from the ordeal, and when he awoke he found that while his old teeth were still gone, a new set of sharpened fangs had grown into his jaws. Spy, naturally, was not at all pleased about this turn of events and Scout discovered great joy in getting a rise out of the once-unflappable European. 

“Okay so it’s agreed then. Spy is a vampire...” 

“Boy, you best stop with that or else I will put my boot up whatever you got for an ass nowadays.” 

“...Engineer is fuckin’ NOTHING because he’s a lucky-ass fuckin’ jackass who I hate a whole lot right now, Medic is like, one-a Satan’s angels Frankensteining it up over at RED Base an’ Heavy is a goddamned stitched together flesh monster or some shit and together they were able to capture and torture the entire RED team without us even knowin’ it. That leaves Sniper, who ain’t been around in weeks but I am one-hunnerd an' ten percent sure that he is a fuckin’ werewolf.” Scout stopped and looked at the filled-in chalkboard, pleased with his cunning act of deduction. 

“What makes you think that?” 

“What, you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Dude’s a scruffy loner bastard that likes ta kill an’ eat all sortsa animals. He was halfway to ‘werewolf’ before that wolf attacked him like two months ago.” 

“It was a coyote, not a wolf.” 

“Big fuckin’ difference! He ain’t been here in weeks, the guy is totally out in the desert tearin’ bears apart with his fuckin’ teeth. I am puttin’ him in the “not friendly” pile with the rest of the crazies.” 

“Well zhen, congratulations boy,” Spy lit up a cigarette and slouched back onto his box chair, “all we have learned today is zhat more zen half ze team would love nozzing more zhan to see what our insides look like. What do we do about zhis?” 

“I dunno, man,” Scout gave a shrug with all four shoulders, “why am I suddenly the leader of this outfit?” 

“You are not, zhat is my point.” 

“You got any ideas, Spah?” 

“As a matter of fact I do.” He tossed the cigarette down onto the concrete floor and smashed it with the heel of his shoe. 

“We leave.”


	17. Welcome to the Fun Side of the Team

Saying it had been easy, but figuring out exactly HOW to leave deemed trickier than Spy wanted to admit. They didn’t know exactly where they were, how far civilization was, and, most importantly, what civilization would do to them once they found it. True, Engineer still showed no outward effects of whatever Harvest had done to the team, and Spy could easily hide his changes from prying eyes, but there was no hiding a flaming skeleton and an insect-man. Questions would be asked. Tests would be performed. And that’s all considering that they could even make it to the next town alive.

There was a banging on the door to Engineer’s workshop. It had already been one of the strongest doors in the base, but Engineer had enforced it and reinforced it and so far none of Soldier’s rockets or Demo’s explosives had managed to make a dent in the thing. But it didn’t stop them from trying on a constant basis. They were hungry. The ones inside were hungry, too. They had been holed up inside the workshop for days.

“I hate to say it, man,” Scout spoke up from the corner of the ceiling he was currently shoved into, “but I bet Sniper could help us out with this.” Pyro let out a small squeak of agreement.

“And what, boy, could ze Convict do zat we are not already capable of?” Spy was not in the mood for this. He was tired and hungry and had run out of cigarettes.

“Well I dunno, ain’t he like super wilderness man? He’s been outside the base way more than we have, he probably knows where the nearest town is, right? Not...not that I really wanna go anywhere like this, I guess.”

There was another explosion outside the door. Dammit, were they too stupid to give up or too bored to do anything else? Spy desperately needed a cigarette. Or some food. A cigarette AND food. The Soldier’s rotting flesh now smelled like filet mignon to the European, filling his head with unwanted ideas and destroying his focus.

“String-bean has a point, much as I hate to admit it. It’d be nice to have Sniper’s input on alla this.”

“If he ain’t already gone, that is. If I were a werewolf I’d be gone by now, screw this noise.”

“Why ain’t you gone, boy? You can fly, can’t you?”

“Hell if I know! S’not like I’ve had the chance to try, with the explosion twins out there!”

“Shut up shut up SHUT UP!” all eyes were suddenly on Spy. Spy was staring at the door. His outburst had done nothing to silence the clamor coming from their “teammates” on the other side, which only fueled the fury behind Spy’s eyes. The others watched in confusion as the man got up off the box he had been using as a chair and stomp towards the door. They didn’t understand the string of angry French, Italian, and Spanish Spy as shouting, but the tone was enough to make the other three men stay put where they were and not attempt to stop him.

Engineer started to say something but it died in his throat when Spy ripped the gloves off his hands and began unlocking the door’s many deadbolts. He was tired, he was frustrated with his teammates’ inaction, he was hungry, and he couldn’t think with all this racket. And he was hungry. So hungry.

Finally unlocked, he tore the door open and stood face to face with the undead Soldier. The American looked slightly bewildered at the sudden opening of the door that he had been shooting rockets against for the better part of three days. Spy’s clawed fingers were instantly at his throat, knocking him off balance and onto the ground, and before he knew what he was doing Soldier’s throat had been torn out and Spy was making short work of the rest of his neck with his sharp teeth. This certainly hadn’t been his plan when he started for the door, but as soon as he was met with the full-on smell of Soldier’s rotting flesh his stomach had taken over and he wasn’t about to stop now.

Multiple explosions shook Spy out of his frenzied meal. He had nearly skeletonized the Soldier’s neck before he realized what he was doing, and when he looked up he remembered that the Soldier was not the only team member that had been assaulting the Engineer’s door. Demo fired a few more pipebombs into the room, finishing off whoever had been left alive after the first round, and looked down at Spy and Soldier with a grin on his face.

“Welcome to the fun side of the team, lad! Thank ye kindly fer openin’ that door for us!” He was fully possessed by the sword at this point, and it had changed him physically. The eyepatch had been removed and a fiery glow emanated out of both hollow eye sockets while large twisting horns had grown out of the sides of his head. He cackled as the last of his bombs exploded.

Dread filled Spy’s body as he realized exactly what he had done. He looked down at Soldier, still writhing beneath him and sputtering brown-black blood from his ruined neck. His hands, his mouth, the front of his suit, it was all drenched in the substance. It tasted a little like barbecue sauce. For the first time in ages, Spy had no idea what to do or say. He just stared blankly at the body he had been eating. Suddenly Soldier’s skull was pierced through by Demo’s sword. He gave one last twitch before finally laying still.

“Ye gotta get him in the head if you wanna send him back to Respawn, else he jes’ keeps kickin’.”

“I...I see...”

“No off wit’ ya. I like yer style, so I woon’t come lookin’ for ya fer the rest o’the day, but I cannae say the same for Soldier once he’s outta Respawn.”

As if on queue, the Soldier’s body disappeared out from under Spy. He still wasn’t sure of what to make of the situation, or of himself for that matter.

“Git! Before I change me mind!”

Spy ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hasn't updated in a year and for some reason I thought I had posted the entirety of what I had written, but I didn't, so I'll post the rest of it here. Maybe posting the rest of this will inspire me to finally finish it!


	18. Not a Werewolf

Spy didn’t stop running until he was out of the base and halfway across the battlefield. He was planning on hiding out in the empty RED base until he remembered that it wasn’t empty, it was full of Medic being crazy with the half-dead RED team. He remembered the smell from Medic’s “workshop” and fell to his knees in front of the small barn that protected the base’s lone control point. He wanted to vomit but his body would not cooperate. He’d gone so long without any sort of food, and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Soldier had been delicious and his stomach was refusing to let go of the badly needed nutrients.

“Crikey, Spook, what happened in there?”

Spy’s head shot up and he recoiled away from the voice. The protective barriers that he had relied on to keep his thoughts and feelings from showing outwardly had been completely removed by this point, and he didn’t even think to try to hide his fear and surprise from the bushman calmly sitting on hay bails propped up in the corner of the little barn.

“Holy piss, is that your blood, mate?”

“N...non. Zis...zis is not my blood.” He stared at his hands, which were covered so completely in Soldier’s blood that it looked like he was still wearing gloves. He tried to wipe them off on his already ruined suit. Part of him wanted to lick the blood off. He wanted to vomit again.

“Ah, so it’s got you too, huh?” Sniper pulled his akubra down over his face and stretched out over the hay he was laying on. “S’got damn near everyone at this point, I suppose.”

“Where ze hell have you been, Bushman?” Spy regained a small bit of composure, got up and walked over to the lounging Sniper.

“Hiding from you lot, mostly. Soldier got me once, didn’t need that to happen again.”

“We had all assumed you had escaped.”

“Can’t say I didn’t try. Couldn’t make it too far, though. Not enough surface water surrounding this place to sustain much of anything, and it ain’t rained in ages.”

“I wasn’t aware werewolves needed so much water to survive.”

“Hah hah, wot?” Sniper thumbed his hat up to look at Spy, “S’that wot you lot think?”

“Well you did get bit by a wolf.”

“It was a coyote, not a wolf! And I weren’t anywhere near the base when that happened, you loon. Hahaha, a werewolf. Haha, Christ.”

“Alright, alright. You made your point, Convict.” Spy sat down next to Sniper, head resting in his hands. Realizing he was still covered in blood, he unbuttoned and shrugged out of his suit jacket and tried wiping his hands and face off on the ruined fabric.

“So who’s blood is that?”

“Ze Soldier’s. I ate him.”

“I’m sorry, wot?” 

“Well, his neck at least. Some of his lower jaw. I do not think he is very happy wiz me at ze moment. Ze Demoman, however, was impressed.”

“Yer not gonna eat me, are yeh?”

“I do not zhink so, non. I am no longer hungry.”

“Alright then.”

They sat in silence for awhile, Spy working the last of the blood off his hands and from under his claws. It was surreal juxtaposition of just moments ago inside the base. Soldier hadn’t come barreling out of the base after him yet, nor had the team members he had inadvertently sent to Respawn. He suddenly realized how tired he was. Sniper was already dozing on the hay, and the burst of energy on an empty stomach hadn’t helped matters.

Against all logic and good sense, he dozed off as well.


	19. Hidden Tunnel

“Oi. Spook. Wake up.” Sniper kicked Spy a few times, backing away after each nudge in case he spooked the Spook and the European tried to take a swipe at him. He didn’t need that. “Wake up, you wanker.”

Spy woke with a start, recoiled away from the Sniper, and gave a hiss in his general direction. As soon as he made the inhuman sound he snapped awake fully and clapped his hands over his mouth.

“Hah hah, s’alright mate. S’just me.” Sniper had to admit he found Spy pretty entertaining like this. The man had always been so pompous and uptight, aware of every movement he made and how it effected others. Now that his confidence was shattered, Sniper couldn’t help but chuckle at how helpless Spy seemed.

“It’s gettin’ dark, I gotta get someplace safe before the moon comes up. Didn’t wanna leave you here by yerself, though.” He moved towards the capture point in the middle of the barn and kneeled down beside the metal circle.

“Before ze moon comes up? I thought you said you weren’t a werewolf.”

“I ain’t.” He found a hidden panel near the edge of the control point an slid it open to reveal a handle embedded into the wooden floor. Sniper gave a sharp tug on the handle, which lifted up a trap door hidden in the wood planks. Under the trap door was a hole that looked something like a well, plunging deep into the earth without a visible bottom. There was a ladder set into one of the sides of the pit, which Sniper grabbed onto and started lowering himself down into.

“I’m a crocodile.”

Spy stood there for a moment.

“A what.”

“Crocodile. Were-crocodile? Wereodile? I don’t know, don’t seem to be a convenient word for it. I get all scaley and toothy is what I’m sayin’. I can control it durin’ the day, but night it gets a little outta hand. I found this hole here a few weeks back, been hidin’ out in it sos I don’t try to eat nobody. Guess it don’t really matter now, huh? Seems like everybody’s eatin’ everybody nowadays. But it’s dark and dank and nobody knows about it. See you in the mornin’, mate!”

Spy watched Sniper disappear down the hole and started to follow. Sniper noticed.

“What’re you doin’, Spook? You don’t want to be anywhere near me, I ain’t got the best control of meself at night.”

“At this point I could care less. I am curious to where zis tunnel goes.”

“Well alright mate, but don’t blame me if you wake up in Respawn.”

“Out of ze both of us, I am ze one who has eaten a teammate today. I think I am not terribly worried about you, Convict.”

“Fair enough.”

They descended into the tunnel in silence as the last light of the sun went out over the horizon.


	20. Not Made of Cigarettes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't notice, three chapters went up at once. Go read them if you haven't yet.

“I’d take that fancy belt o’yers off and have it ready, don’t know when this is gonna start.”

“Why Sniper, I’d hate to have that sentence taken out of context.”

“Shaddap Spook, I’m being serious here. If yer following me down here I’m tellin’ you how to keep me from grabbin’ you in a death roll the moment I get weird. I’d appreciate it if you’d at least seem a little worried, right mate?”

They continued to descend the ladder under the control point. The light had dwindled and the ladder kept going. Sniper kept talking about crocodiles this and jaw-strength that and Spy was just not in the mood for this bullshit.

“Spy, god dammit, you listen to me! I don’t wanna wake up tomorrow morning with your guts in my mouth, alright?”

“Sniper, you can stop pretending to be this scary monster, you are days too late for me to give any response to your evening metamorphoses. Only a few hours ago I attacked and consumed a good amount of our Soldier’s neck. So stop with the macabre theatrics. I do not care.”

“Alright, alright, christ, mate, you made yer point. I won’t tell you to rub my belly if I try to attack you.”

“And here you are again saying things that sound suspiciously like invitations for bizarre intercourse.”

“What? No, god dammit, I just meant...crocs have a quirk in their nervous system that short-circuits them when you rub their stomachs. I was...I was tryin’ to make a joke.”

“Well then your joke has succeeded because I am laughing, Convict.”

“An’ the belt is to wrap around my jaws after I change so I can’t bite you--stop laughing!!”

“Non, I think not.”

“Forget what I said, I hope I kill you.”

They continued down the seemingly endless ladder into the darkness until they finally hit the bottom. Spy found it suspiciously bright for being so far underground.

“Alright, hold on a tick, mate, I know where the light switch is, don’t go stumblin’ around in the--” Spy flipped on the lights. “--dark.”

“You can see in the dark,” Sniper said flatly.

“It appears that way, yes. Either zat or your eyes ‘ave become terrible. What is this place?”

“Dunno, mate, some sorta power station maybe. Probably what keeps the lights on in both bases, I haven’t been able to explore it too much since I usually lose consciousness not far into this place.”

The ladder was located at the end of a long hallway occasionally dotted by yellow fluorescent lights. They walked in silence for a bit, until the hall ended at a metal door. Sniper pushed the door open to reveal a plain looking, albeit fairly destroyed, room. Wood paneling, a bench, were those time cards? There was another door on the far side of the room. All of it was covered in deep scratches and broken wood.

“I usually lock m’self in here for the night.”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“Bits an’ pieces, nothin’ solid. I’ve been tryin’ to get hold of it, but it’s not goin’ too-AUUGHHN.” Sniper doubled over suddenly and collapsed to his knees.

“Oh fabulous,” Spy said, unfazed. He side-stepped the Sniper as he lashed out at Spy’s legs, hands shaking as thick claws ripped out of his fingertips while his fingers grew thicker and scales began to run up his arms.

“Get out!” Sniper growled, lunging clumsily towards Spy. Again Spy easily dodged him and continued to observe his transformation. Sniper’s face started to distort, the skin under his chin and down his neck became stained brownish-yellow and hardened into thick scales while the rest of his skin started taking on a dark green color. Sniper tried in vain to get his shirt and vest off, but his musculature bulged suddenly, ripping the shirt at the seams. He had gotten his boots off in time, as his feet and ankles swelled, taking on a crocodilian shape as the process moved up his legs. He suddenly fell over as his face grew into to the giant jaws of a crocodile, which, along with the thicker chest and heavy arms, made the man entirely too top heavy. The pants were miraculously still intact, as his thighs hadn’t changed significantly, and again stayed on when a large reptilian tail emerged from the base of his spine. The tail seemed to balance out his top half, and he rose to his feet again, a low hiss escaping his maw as he turned toward Spy.

At the end of it all Spy thought Sniper looked rather like a large crocodile with longer, human-like arms and Sniper’s legs.

“That’s it?” Spy barked, a large grin on his face, “You look ridiculous.”

Spy woke up in Respawn 20 minutes later.  
He was laying on his back staring up at the ceiling, slowly regaining consciousness, when a recognizable shadow invaded his vision.

“Ah, Engineer, ‘ow lovely for you to watch over me as I sleep. I feel like a princess in a castle. Do you come baring cigarettes?”

“You left us to die in there, Spah.”

“Apologies, I was not in the best frame of mind at ze time. I think you’ll find I ‘ave quite stopped caring about such thin--” he stopped, looking up at the Engineer. The harsh yellow lighting of the Respawn room backlit the Texan’s shape above the Spy, leaving him as only a silhouette hovering in Spy’s vision.

“Oh, zat’s right, ze Respawn ‘as finally claimed you. Aw, and you tried so ‘ard to avoid our sad state.” Spy laughed, giving a weak snort and sitting up. “Seriously, Laborer, unless you ‘ave become a terrible monster that is made out of cigarettes I do not car--”

In an instant Engineer was behind Spy, one hand over the European’s mouth, the other over his chest, pinning his arms to his side. Spy felt a sharp pierce to his neck, and the sudden sensation of his blood leaving his body. He struggled briefly, but soon all he could focus on was the strange blue streaks rolling down his neck and chest, turning his white shirt the same color as his pinstriped jacket.

Before he blacked out, all Spy could think of was how Engineer was not made of cigarettes.


	21. Still no Cigarettes

Later, Spy would reflect on how cliche it had been to wake up thinking that all the bizarre events of the last couple of months were just a strange dream. He’d had them before; dreams that lasted for what seemed like ages, all making perfect sense until he woke up and realized just how silly they actually were. For a few brief, glorious moments, Spy had really thought that this was all over. His team hadn’t mutated into monsters, their Medic hadn’t sewn together parts of the enemy team onto their Heavy, their Engineer hadn’t...what exactly had the Engineer done? Soon he would wake up and go back to whatever constituted as ‘normal’ in his life.

He realized how naive those thoughts were when he fully regained conscious. He was underwater. Spy wondered if anything had the power to surprise him anymore as he gave a tired sigh and pulled himself up above the surface. He was in the bathtub, the only one on the base, not in the locker-rooms situated in the underground part of the compound, but in the bathroom on the second floor of the farmhouse. The sun had gone down long ago and the lights were off, but, as with the tunnels under the Control Point, Spy could see perfectly fine. And what he could see he did not like.

Respawn had done a number on him this time, as his entire lower half had been replaced with a writhing mass of deep blue tentacles. Well, that would explain the bathtub, Spy thought bitterly as he cautiously ran a clawed finger over one sticking out of the water. Weird. Rubbery. Sensitive. He hated it. This was stupid. How did he go from a flesh-eating ghoul to a...what was this, anyway? Spy attempted to climb out of the bathtub but his eight new “legs” didn’t want to cooperate. Movement in the corner of the room caught Spy’s eye.

Engineer was huddled in a corner. Spy couldn’t see much of him, his sleeves were rolled down, his hardhat had been replaced with that garish cowboy hat of his, and he was even wearing two welding gloves for once. He appeared to have been sleeping, but Spy’s floundering seemed to have woken him up.

“Oh, oh! Spah, yer awake!” He got up and walked over to the tub. His goggles were around his neck, and his eyes seemed to almost shine in the darkness. “You didn’t wake up after you Respawned and I thought, well I didn’t know what I thought. You looked like you needed water so I brought you up here but...”

“Non, I am...well I suppose ‘fine’ is not the right word, but I am awake.” Spy continued to poke at his new appendages. They felt familiar and alien all at the same time.

“Shoot, I know this don’t really mean nothin’, but I’m real sorry, Spah. I wouldn’ta done it if I knew this would happen, I thought you was done with alla this bullshit and it wouldn’t matter, and I was cross at you, since you sent me to Respawn with yer little stunt back in mah workshop...”

“I ate ze Soldier, Sniper ate me, zen you drained all ze blood from my body.” Spy had heard enough. “It is fine, Laborer, I honestly don’t care any longer. We are all monsters here. Food is scarce, so did I at least provide a suitable meal?”

Engineer blushed and gave a nervous laugh. “N...naw, actually. Y’made me pretty sick for a spell. I think vampires are only s’posed t’drink human blood. Shit, I mean, not that you ain’t...it’s just that you got this weird blue blood and it wasn’t...dammit.”

“Welcome to ze rest of ze Team, Engineer. Isn’t zees fun?” Christ he wanted a cigarette. And some food. Mostly cigarettes. He could just eat a team member again if he wanted food, but he couldn’t say the same for cigarettes,so those were obviously the greater priority at the moment. 

He continued to experiment with his new legs. It was a pity that Harvest was such a dry and barren place. If this had happened in any number of other bases with streams, canals, or even sewers he could have made use of them in his apparently aquatic body, but Harvest didn’t have so much as a creek. After a few minutes of acclimation he discovered he could coordinate his limbs fairly easily as long as he did not think too hard about it. Part of him was concerned how quickly he was getting used to it and the other part of him was pleased that he didn’t have to spend the rest of his life in a farmhouse bathroom.

“So, you are a vampire, zen?” Spy said unenthusiastically as he semi-gracefully hoisted himself out of the bathtub and onto the floor next to Engineer’s feet. His tentacles were surprisingly strong and easily supported the rest of his body, which was a relief to Spy.

“Uh, yeah I guess.” Engineer replied as he watched Spy in a mix of fascination and...well, mostly fascination. Biology wasn’t his field, but watching Spy coordinate all of those limbs in a manner that didn’t appear completely clumsy and actually looked semi-natural was beyond interesting for the scientist. “Well I mean I suppose so. First time I Respawned like this it was still light out and apparently getting into the sun sets me on fire. Pyro thought I was turnin’ into one of her until I burnt up completely and Respawned again. Bein’ covered up helps. Fire ain’t the best way to go.”

“No, it iz not, you have my full agreement zere.” He left an unpleasant slimy trail in his wake, but at least he was ambulatory. And now: cigarettes. “Just the aversion to sunlight and the thirst for blood, then?”

“Well, and the teeth...”

A thought occurred. “Only human blood, oui?”

“Yeah, like Ah said, you made me pretty sick. I don’t even wanna try th’others.”

“I suppose you must be hungry.” He opened the door to the bathroom, startled by the bright lights of the hallway. It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust, and with some hesitation he looked down at himself in the full light. Gross. He looked up at Engineer as he followed Spy out into the hallway. The usually tanned Texan’s skin (what Spy could see of it) was now a sickly alabaster with the hint of veins tracing the edges of his face. He looked at the European with bright red eyes.

“Well everybody here is hungry, Spah. None of us had a proper meal in weeks.” He gave a weak grin and Spy could see flashes of the aforementioned fangs that were now in his mouth. Only the canines, unlike Spy’s own mouth full of daggers, but they were much longer than any of Spy’s fangs.

“False. Why, I had a meal just zhis morning. Oh, and Sniper had a meal right before I Respawned into your caring arms.”

“Eating teammates don’t count, Spah.”

“Oh I beg to differ, Ingénieur. I would assume Medic had emergency blood stores in ze Infirmary, non?”

“Yeah but...I kinda...” Engineer rubbed the back of his neck and looked down.

“Ah, you have already consumed zem.”

“Y-yeah.” Engineer was obviously having a hard time with all of this. A pity, if only he could just stop caring, things would be much easier.

They had gotten to the stairs leading down to the first floor of the farmhouse. Spy ‘stood’ at the top of the flight as he tried to figure out how to negotiate a structure built for people with two legs. It turns out he was overthinking things again, and his new appendages easily navigated the steps down onto the first floor. He still thought he was gross, but he was impressed with himself. Why, he deserved a cigarette.

“You know, Engineer, zhere are still some godforsaken creatures in this base just full to the brim with your precious human blood. At least, I assume they still are, if our dear feathered friend hasn’t spoiled them.”

“Who, Medic?” Engineer stopped in his tracks, his bright crimson eyes flashing towards the direction of the RED base, an involuntary grin spreading it’s way across his face. It was like a light had switched on in the Texan’s head. “The RED team is still alive?”

“Oui, the RED team is still alive.” Spy cracked a smile.

Perhaps they had cigarettes.


	22. TV Hour

They’d all gone crazy. Pyro found it funny, well not “hilarious” funny, but interesting at least, how she had been the first to physically lose her brain and the last to actually lose her mind. It seemed like Scout’s sanity was still hanging in there, but Pyro had doubts that would last for much longer.

They were both on the couch in the living area watching television. Scout had fallen asleep curled up against Pyro’s chemsuit; he had complained earlier of being cold and then almost immediately drifted off into unconsciousness. The boy was like a living sugar rush; after the excitement and danger of the day had worn off he had crashed, and crashed hard. Pyro, on the other hand, found she didn’t need to sleep anymore.

Soldier and Demo had stopped harassing them after Spy’s stunt in Engineer’s workshop had sent them all through Respawn. Engineer had come out wrong, burst into flame. Soldier and Demo had quite a laugh over that, and had suddenly lost interest in murdering their teammates for the time being. Pyro welcomed the sudden peace, and thought that maybe an evening of television would help restore some sense of normalcy to the base.

While she didn’t need to sleep, she did zone out for God knows how long, and snapped out of it when she heard voices and footsteps coming down the stairs.

“I don’t suppose there are any sort of bodies of water anywhere near here, are there?”

“Not that I know of. Pretty dry around there. I think the base gets it’s water from an underground aquifer.”

“That is a shame. I don’t think I will take well to drying out in this state.”

“What if something happened to the RED team and I can’t use, uh...their, um. Blood?”

“Well I suppose that is a bridge we will cross if we come to it.” Pyro let out a small shriek as soon as Spy came into view. His entire body from the waist down had been replaced by 8 octopus legs, and he was chattering on with the Engineer as if nothing at all had changed. The pair stopped and looked at the flaming skeleton nervously peering over the back of the couch at them.

“Bonsoir, Madam Pyro.” The Spy gave a sarcastic bow in her direction and continued walking, er, slithering, out of the room with Engineer in tow.

She was definitely the only sane one left in the base.


	23. The Secret Base

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two chapters in this update! Chapter 22 is pretty short, so I thought maybe two chapters after a year of silence would be nice. I don't want to be that kind of writer, but comments definitely help keep the inspiration going

He was cold. Too cold to move. That was okay. The monster was fed and happy, and the Sniper’s brain was able to come through and take more control over what his body did. He wondered bitterly who’s bright idea it was to make a crocodile-monster nocturnal. The sun would warm his blood and give him energy, but when the sun was out he could go back to being a mammal again, and he wouldn’t need the sun to be able to move. All he could do was lay on the floor of the dark underground room to conserve energy and wait for the morning. That was fine. The morning was nearing.

The Sniper didn’t hear so much as feel the vibrations of the falling footsteps as someone neared the room he had holed himself up in. He moved his elongated scaly face toward the door, and could faintly make out a voice. No, voices.

“--stand why you have so much fear of the sun. What can ze Respawn systems do to us now that hasn’t already been done?”

“It ain’t like gettin’ caught by a Pyro, son. It’s like you burn up from the inside, and Respawn don’t register it till you been layin’ there as ashes for a good long while. I don’t aim to experience that again, thank you very much.”

“Well we are safe enough from ze big bad sun for now down here, don’t you worry your little pointy teeth over it. Although we can’t go to ze RED base till you can go outside again. This is all very inconvenient, you know.”

“This blase apathetic new outlook of yers is kind of obnoxious, Spah.”

“Desole. I will try to care more in ze future. No promises.”

By then the voices were right outside the door of Sniper’s “nest.” He hoped they didn’t open it. He didn’t know if he could control himself enough not to attack them, even in his sluggish state. Too late, the door was opening.

“Where the hell are we anywa--oh holy Christ!” Engineer stepped through the door first, only go get a good look of Sniper laying on the floor. Sniper didn’t know exactly what he looked like, but he knew it must be fairly ridiculous. Even the Spy had said so, before he had eaten him. Sniper struggled out of his torpor and attempted to stand up, the weight of his large head and long torso bending him over, counter balanced by the large tail that reached out behind him. His legs were muscular and scaled, like the rest of him, but the proportions were fairly unchanged from his normal human form. The same applied to his arms and hands, which in his hunched over position, reached down to his knees when he stood to face the Engineer. Perhaps he looked a bit like a dinosaur wearing pants. No, that would still look stupid.

“Ah, Sniper, good to see you again!” Spy slithered into the door behind the shocked Engineer. Sniper was still fighting off cold and food-induced sleep, but for the first time since turning into this thing, he didn’t feel the blind fury that usually overtook his consciousness when confronted with a teammate or some other form of prey. Spy noticed.

“What is this? You have nothing to say, mi amigo? I thought for sure you would try to devour me again. I was hoping to go for an even number of deaths by cannibalization today, that is a shame.” He patted Sniper on the snout. Unable to talk with a crocodile’s mouth, Sniper merely looked down at Spy’s tentacles. He didn’t have those before, did he? His eyes went wide as he looked back to Spy’s eyes.

“Ah, no, do not fear, mon ami, this was not your doing! Our friend Engineer here thought it fit to drink my blood! He did not find it to his liking, however. And you are not trying to eat me! I feel I should be offended, I can’t possibly taste that bad. I am practically calimari at this stage, I should be delicious.”

Sniper glanced over at the Engineer, who was still giving Sniper a rather undignified slack-jawed stare. The Australian had missed a lot being locked down under the control point, apparently. It seemed with each new change Spy just got weirder, and his incessant chatter was getting annoying.

A flash of pain ripped through him suddenly, forcing the Sniper to his knees as a low growl escaped his mouth. The sun must’ve come up enough for him to finally change back. It had been happening for over a month now, but he could not get used to the horrible pain that racked his body as it reabsorbed the bone and muscles it had spontaneously grown just the evening before. Between his own growls and screams he could hear the Spy giggling.

“This looks even more ridiculous in reverse! Don’t tell me you are left with just an ill-fitting pair of pants as clothing every morning?”

“At least...at least I have pants.” Sniper grunted with his newly reformed lips from his fetal position on the floor. “I’m not the one draggin’ my slimy ass all over the dusty ground, mate.”

“I don’t understand a lick of what’s going on...” the Engineer unnecessarily pointed out.

**Author's Note:**

> The majority of this was written in late 2010, before Meet the Medic and Meet the Pyro, and I'm still slowly working on it.


End file.
